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APR  15  1936 


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suitor 


COLLECTION 


FOPUZ.AR  SONGS. 


\ 


PHILADELPHIA  r 


D  PUBLISHED  BY  WILLIAM  W.  WEEKS 

120,  Locust  Street. 


1826. 


I 


MINSTREL. 


THE  MINSTREL  BOY. 

I  he  minstrel-boy  to  the  war  is  gone. 

In  the  ranks  of  death  you'll  find  linn : 
Hi^  fath<  r's  sword  he  has  gilded  on, 

And  his  wild  harp  slung  behind  him. 
'•  Land  of  song  !M  said  the  warrior  bard, 

*'  Though  all  the  world  betrays  thee, 
One  sword,  at  hast,  thy  rights  shall 

One  faithful  harp  shall  praise  thee." 
The  minstrel  fell  !  but  the  foeman's chain 

Could  not  bring  his  proud  soul  tinder  ; 
The  harp  he  lov'd  ne'ei  spoke  again, 

Fer  he  tore  its  chords  asund.  r  ; 
And  said,  "  No  chain-,  shall  sully  thee, 

Thou  soul  of  love  and  braver;  ! 
l'hy  songs  were  made  for  the  pure  andfref 
ad  in  slavery." 


MINSTREL. 


THE  ROSE  BUD. 


When  the  rose-hud  of  summer,  its  beauty  bestowing', 
On  winter's  rude  hanks  all  its  sweetness  shall  pour, 

And  the  sunshine  of  day  in  night's  darkness  be  glow- 
O  !  then,  dearest  Ellen,  I'll  love  you  no  more,  [ing, 

When  of  hope  the  last  spark,  which  thy  smile  lored 
to  cherish, 
In  my  bosom  shall  die,  and  its  splendour  be  o'er, 
Atm  the  pulse  of  that  heart  which  adores  you  shall  pe- 
rish, 
Oh !  then,  dearest  Ellen,  I'll  love  you  no  more. 

T.  Moore. 


IN  MY  COTTAGE  NEAR  A  WOOD. 
J  N  my  cottage  near  a  wood, 

Love  and  Rosa  now  are  mine ; 
Rosa  ever  fair  and  good, 

Charm  me  with  those  smiles  of  thine. 
Rosa,  partner  of  my  life, 

Thee  alone  my  heart  shall  prize ; 
Thou,  the  tender  friend  and  wife— 

Ah  !  too  swift  life's  current  Mies-! 

Linger  yet,  ye  moments  stay  : 

Why  so  rapid  is  your  wing  ? 
Whither  would  ye  haste  awaj  ? 

Stay,  a iid  hear  my  Rosa  sing. 
Love  and  you  still  bless  my  cot, 

Fortune's  frowns  arc  fur  our  good  ; 
"\-\y  Ave  live,  by  pride  forgot, 

tn  our  cottage  near  a  wood.         Moreland, 


MINSTREL. 

UK  WAS  FAMED. 
II K  was  famed  for  deeds  of  arms, 
She  a  maid  of  envied  charms  ; 
Now  to  him  her  love  imparts, 
One  puit  flame  pervades  both  hearts : 
Honour  calls  him  to  the  field, 
Love  to  conquest  now  must  ; 
Swt  et  maid  !  he  cries,  again  I'll  con 
•  When  the  glad  trumpet  sounds  a  notary. 
Rattle  now  with  fury  glows  ! 
Hostile  blood  in  torrents  Hows  ! 
His  duty  tells  him  to  depart, 
Sh.  pressed  the  hero  to  her  heart. 
And  now  the  trumpet  sounds  to  arm »  ! 
And  now  the  clash  of  war's  alarms  .' 
Sweet  maid  !  he  cries  airaiii  I'll  come  to  thee, 
When  the  glad  trumpet  sounds  a  victory. 
He  with  love  and  conquest  burns, 
Both  subdue  his  mind  by  turns  ; 
Death  the  soldier  now  enthralls ! 
With  his  wounds  the  hero  falls ! 
She,  disdaining  war's  alarms, 
Rush'd  and  caught  him  in  her  arms ! 
O  death  '.  he  cried,  thou'rt  welcome  now  to  me 
For.  hark  !  the  glad  trumpet  sounds  a  victory. 

HAIL  LIBERTY. 
Hail  Liberty,  supreme  delight, 

Thou  idol  of  the  mind! 
O'er  .  v", -y  cK  a      xt<  nd  thy  light, 
To  regions  iraconnn'd, 


MINSTREL. 

The  virtuous  and  the  just  and  brave, 

Exist  along  with  thee  ! 
Nature  ne'er  meant  to  form  a  slave, 
Her  birth-right's  Liberty. 
Then  let  the  world  in  one  great  band 

Of  glorious  unity, 
Drive  despotism  from  the  land, 
Or  die  for  Liberty  ! 

The  virtuous,  See. 
Though  all  the  tyrants  in  the  world 

Do  dare  to  crush  thy  fame ! 
Her  sacred  banners  still  unf  url'd, 
Eternal  be  thy  name. 

The  virtuous,  &c. 
Columbia  how  blest  art  thou, 

Secure  from  tyrant  sway, 
Thy  laws  assert  thy  rights  avow, 
Drive  despots  far  away. 

The  virtuous,  8ce. 


HARRY  BLUFF. 
When  a  boy,  Harry  Bluff  left  his  friends  and  his  home, 
And  his  dear  native  land  o'er  the  ocean  to  roam; 
Like  a  sapling  he  sprung,  he  was  fair  to  the  view, 
He  was  true  Yankee  oak,  boys  the  older  he  grew, 
Tho'  his  body  was  weak,  and  his  hands  they  were  soft, 
When  the  signal  was  given  he  was  the  first  man  aloft, 
And  the  veteran's  all  cried,  he'd  one  day  lead  the  van* 
In  the  heart  of  a  boy  was  the  soul  of  a  man— 
And  he  lived  like  a  true  Yankee  Sailor,— 


MINSTREL. 

When  to  manhood  promoted  and  burning  for  fame, 
Still  in  peace  or  in  war  Harry  Bluff  was  the  same; 

to  his  love  and  in  battle  so  brave, 
That  the  myrtle  and  laurel  entwin'd  oVr  his  grave; 
For  his  country  he  fell,  when  by  victory  crown'd, 
The  flag  shot  away,  fell  in  tatters  around, 
And  the  foe  thought  he'd  struck,but  he  cried  out  avast! 
For  Columbia's  colours  he  nail'd  to  the  mast, 
And  he  died  like  a  true  Yankee  Sailor. 


DEAR  MARY  TO  THEE. 

no'  the  Muses  ne'er  smile  by  the  light  of  the  sun, 
Yet  they  visit  my  cot  when  my  labour  is  done, 
And  whilst  on  my  pillow  of  straw  I  recline; 
A  wreath  of  sweet  rlow'rtts  they  sportively  twine; 
But  io  vain  the  fair  damsels  weave  chaplets  for  me, 
Since  my  heart  is  devoted  d.  ar  Mary  to  thee. 

Dear  Mary  to  thee,  §cc. 
I  often  reflect  on  my  indigent  state, 
But  reflection  and  reason  are  ever  too  late  ; 
TIkv  till  me  I  sigh  for  too  beauteous  a  fair, 
And  fill  my  sad  bosom  with  doubt  and  despair; 
Then  hopt  kindly  smiling  awerts  their  decree, 
For  my  heart  is  devoted  dear  Mary  to  thee. 

Dear  Mary  to  thee,  &c« 

When  the  shrill  pipe  and  tabor  proclaims  the  ligLt 

dance, 
With  what  transport  I  see  my  dear  Mary  advance ; 


3  MINSTREL. 

Then  siith  grace  she  displays,  while  she  trips  'mid  the 

throng, 
L  hat  each  shepherd  with  rapture  to  her  tunes  his  song; 
But  by  none  she's  beloved  with  such  truth  as  by  me, 
For  my  heart  is  devoted  dear  Mary  to  thee. 

Dear  Mary  to  thee,  &c. 


WANDERING  WILLIE. 

Here  awa,  there  awa,  wandering  Willie, 
.  Here  awa,  there  awa,  haud  awa  hame  ; 
Come  to  my  bosom,  my  ain  only  deary, 

Tell  me  thou  bring'st  me  my  Willie,  the  same. 
Winter  winds  blew  loud  and  cauld  at  our  parting  * 

Fears  for  my  Willie  brought  tears  in  my  ee  : 
Welcome  now  simmer,  and  welcome  my  Willie, 

The  simmer  to  nature,  my  Willie  to  me. 

Rest,  ye  wild  storms,  in  the  cave  of  your  slumbers; 

How  your  dread  howling  a  lover  alarms ! 
Wauken,  ye  breezes  !  row  gently,  ye  billows  * 

And  waft  my  dear  laddie  ance  mair  to  my  arms. 
But  ah  !  if  he's  faithless,  and  minds  nahis  Nannie, 

Flow  still  between  us.  thou  wide  roaring  main  ; 
May  I  never  see  it,  may  I  never  trow  it, 

But,  dying,  believe  that  my  Willie's  my  ain. 

THE  ECHO. 

Tell  me,  babbling  echo,  why 
You  return  me  sigh  for  sigh  : 


-MINSTREL 

\\  iiilkt  I  of  slighted  love  complain, 

lou  delight  to  mock  my  pain. 

Hold  intruder,  night  and  day, 

Busy  u-11-tale  haste  away  ; 

Me  and  my  cares  in  silence  leave — 

Come  not  near  me  while  I  grieve. 

But  should  my  swain  with  all  his  charms 

Return  toolasp  me  in  his  arms, 

I'd  call  thee  from  thy  dark  retreat, 

The  joyful  tidings  to  repeat. 

Repeat,  repeat*  repeat  the  strain, 
Sing  it  o'er  ando'ei  again  ; 
From  mom  till  t  ve  prolong  the  tale, 
Let  it  ring  from  vale  to  vale. 


HOME,  SWEET  HOME. 
'Mid  pleasure  and  pallaces,  though  we  may  roam, 

Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there's  no  place  like  Home  ; 
A  charm  front  the  skies,  seem  to  hallow  us  there, 
Which  seek  through  the  world,  is  ne'er  met  with 
elsewhere. 

Home,  Home,  sweet  sweet  Home, 
There's  Home,  sweet  Home, 
There's  no  place  like  Home. 

An  exile  from  Home,  splendour  dazzles  in  vain, 
O  give  me  my  lowly,  thatched  Cottage  again  ; 
The  birds  singing  gaily  that  came  at  my  call, 
Give  me  them  with  the  peace  of  mind,dearer  than  all. 
Home,  Home,  sweet  sweet  Home, 
There's  no  place  like  Home, 
There's  no  place  like  Home. 


10  MINSTREL. 

HUNTER'S  HORN. 
Swift  from  the  covert  flu  merry  pack  fled, 
When  bounding,  they  sprang  o'er  valley  and  mead. 
Wide  spreading  his  antlers,  erected  his  head, 

The  stag,  his  enemies  scorning.    . 
Oh,  had  you  but  seen  them  through  torrent  and  brake, 
Each  sportsman,  right  gaiiam,  his  rivals  race  take, 
Twould  have  pleas'd  beauty's  ear  to  have  heard  echo 
wake 

To  the  hunter's  horn  in  the  morning. 
Clear'd  v,as  the  forrest  the  mountain  pass'd  o'er, 
While  swiftly  their  riders  the  willing  steeds  bore, 
The  liver  roll'd  deep,  where  the  stag  spurn'd  the  shore, 

Yet  own'd  no  timorous  warning. 
So  close  was  he  follow'd,  the  foam  where  he  sprung 
Encircled  and  sparkled  the  coursers  among, 
While  the  dogs  of  the  chase  the  rude  melody  rung, 

To  the  hunter's  horn  in  the  morning. 


GO,  MY  LOVE. 

A  Rondo, sung  by  Miss  Kelly. 
Go,  my  love  .'  nor  believe  that  your  Ciaribel's  heart, 

For  a  moment  will  ask  you  to  stay  ; 
WThen  the  stern  voice  of  honour  commands  us  to  part ; 

When  by  duty  you're  summon'd  away. 
Yet  that  fond  anxious  feelings  my  bosom  assail, 

The  throbs  of  that  bosom  declare  ; 
Tho'  no  fears  for  your  honour  or  courage  prevail, 

Yet  fears  for  your  safety  are  there.  Bishop. 


MINSTREL.  11 

Cto,  my  love  !  though  my  heart  may  bear  quick, 
When  I  hear  qff  the  dangers  and  heat  of  t!i  ■  fight  ; 

Ytr  believe  me,  each  pulse  that  now  Rotten  with  fear. 
Soon  will  change  to  the  throb  of  delight. 


FRIEND  AXD  PITCHER. 
The  wealthy  fool,  with  gold  in  store, 

Will  still  desire  to  grow  riclu-r, 
Give  me  but  health,  I  ask  no  more, 
My  charming  girl,  my  friend  and  pitcher. 
My  friend  so  rare,  my  girl  so  fair, 

With  such,  what  mortal  can  be  richer, 
Give  me  but  these,  a  fig  for  care, 

With  my  sweet  girl,  my  friend  aud  pitcher. 

From  morning  sun  I'd  never  grieve. 

To  toil  a  hedger  or  a  ditcher, 
If  that,  when  I  come  home  at  eve, 

I  might  enjoy  my  friend  and  pitcher. 
My  friend,  &e. 
Though  fortune  ever  shun  my  door, 

I  know  not  what  can  thus  brwitch  her  ; 
With  all  my  heart  can  I  be  poor, 

"With  my  sweet  girl,  my  friend  and  pitcher. 
My  friend  &e 


OH  !  REMEMBER  THE  TIME. 
Oh  !  remember  the  time  in  La  Maneha's  shad*v, 
When  our  moments  so  blisfully  flew  : 


12  MIN'STREL. 

When  you  call  d  me  the  flow'r  of  Castilian  maids, 

And  I  blush 'd  to  be  ealPd  so  by  you, 
When  I  taught  you  to  warble  the  gay  Seguadille, 

And  to  dance  to  the  light  Castanet, 
Oh,  never,  dear  youth,  let  you  roam  where  you  will, 

The  delight  of  those  moments  forget. 

They  tell  me,  you  lovers  from  Erin's  green  Isle, 

Ev'ry  hour  a  new  passion  can  feel  ; 
And  that  soon  in  the  light  of  some  lovelier  smile, 

You'll  forget  the  poor  maid  of  Castile. 
But  they  know  not  how  brave  in  the  battle  you  are, 

Or  they  never  could  think  you  would  rove, 
For  'tis  always  the  spirit  most  gallant  in  war, 

That  is  fondest  and  truest  in  love  !  T.  Moore. 


THE  DRUM. 
Come  each  gallant  lad, 

Who  for  pleasure  quits  care, 
To  the  drum,  drum,  drum,  to,  &c. 

To  the  drum  head  with  spirit  repair. 
Each  recruiter  takes  his  glass, 

And  each  young  soldier  with  his  lass, 
While  the  drum  beats  tatto,  while,  &c. 

Retires  the  sweet  night  to  pass. 

Each  night  gaily  lad— 

Thus  we'll  merrily  waste, 
'Till  the  drum,  drum,  drum,  &c. 

'Tiil  the  dram  tells  us  'tis  past. 
Picket  arms  at  dawn  now  shine, 

And  each  drum  ruffles  down  the  line ; 


MTVSTRFX. 
Vow  the  drum  brats  lvvelle,  now,  See 
Saluting  tht  day  divine. 

Rut  hark  !  yonder  shouts- 
Sec  the  standard  now  alarms, 

Now  the  drum,  drum,  drum,  &c. 
Now  the  drum  heats  loudly  to  aims. 

Kill'd  and  wounded  how  they  lie  ! 
Helter,  skelter,  see  them  fly, 

Now  the  drum  beats  retreat,  now,  See. 
We'll  fire  a  feu-de-joy. 


FAREWELL  TO  MY  HARP. 

Dear  Harp  of  my  country  !  in  darkness  I  found  thee, 

The  cold  chain  of  silence  had  hung  o'er  thee  long, 
When  proudly  my  own  island  Harp  !  I  unbound  thee, 

And  gave  all  thy  chords  to  light,  freedom  and  song  I 
The  warm  lay  of  love,  and  the  light  note  of  gladness, 

Have  w  aken'd  th>  fondest,  thy  liveliest  thrill ; 
But  so  oft  hast  thou  echoed  the  deep  sigh  of  sadness, 

That  e'en  in  thy  mirth  it  w  ill  steal  from  thee  still. 

Dear  Harp  of  my  country  !  farewell  to  thy  numbers, 
This  sweet  wreath  of  song  is  the  last  we  shall  twine, 
Co—  sleep  with  the  sunshine  of  fame  on  thy  slumtx  rs, 
'Till  touch'd  by  some  hand  less  unw  orthy  than  mine. 
If  the  pulse  of  the  patriot,  soldier  or  lo\er, 
Haw  throbh'd  at  our  lay,  'tis  thy  glory  alone  ; 
at  as  the  wind,  passing  heedlessly  over; 

id  sweetness  I  wak'd  was  thy  own  ! 
T.  Moore. 


MINSTREL. 

ROBERT  BRUCE  TO  HIS  ARMY. 
Scots,  wha  hae  wi'  Wallace  bled, 
Scots  wha  Bruce  has  often  led, 
Welcome  to  your  gory  bed, 

Or  to  glorious  victory. 
Now's  the  d.iy,  and  no%\ '»  the  hour  ; 
See  th^  front  of  battle  low'r ; 
See  approach  proud  Edward's  power 
Edward,  chains,  and  slavery. 

Wha  will  be  a  traitor  knave  ? 
Wha  will  fill  a  coward's  grave  ? 
Wha  sae  base  as  be  a  slave  ? 

Traitor  !  Coward  !  turn  and  flee. 
Wha,  for  Scotland's  king  and  la', 
Freedom's  sword  we'll  strongly  draw, 
Freeman  stand,  or  freeman  fa', 

Caledonians  on  wi'  me. 

By  oppressions,  woes,  and  pains, 
By  your  sons  in  servile  chains, 
We  will  drain  our  dearest  veins, 

But  they  shall  be,  shall  be  free. 
Lay  the  proud  usurpers  low, 
Tyrants  fall  in  every  foe, 
Liberty's  in  every  blow  ; 

Forward  1  let  us  do  or  dee.  Burns* 


LOVE  HAS  EYES. 
Love's  blind,  they  say,  oh,  never,  nay, 
Can  words  love's  grace  impart  ? 


MINSTREL. 

The  bnej  weak,  the  tongue  may  speak, 

But  eyes  alone  the  heart. 
In  one  soft  look  what  language  lies! 
Oh,  y< -s.  befieve  me,  1  ■ 

Oh  !  lore  has  eyes,  love  has  eyes,  eke. 

Low's  wing'd,  they  cry— oh,  never,  I 
No  pinions  have  to  soar  ; 

aVen  rove,  but  never  love, 
Attached,  he  roves  no  more. 
Tan  he  have  wings  who  never  flies, 
believe  me,  lore  baa  ej   s. 
Oh  I   love  has  eyes,  love  has  eyes,  Sec 


SAILOR  BOY. 
The  sea  was  calm,  the  iky  serene, 

And  gently  blew  the  eastern  gale  ; 
When  Anna,  seated  on  a  rock, 

Watch'd  the  Lavonia's  lessening  sail: 
To  heaven  she  thus  her  prayer  add. 

"  Thou  who  canst  save,  or  canst  destroy  ; 
From  each  surrounding  danger  guard 
lUch  loved  little  sailor  hoy. 

When  tempests  o'er  the  ocean  howl, 
And  even  sailors  shrink  with  dread, 

i  •  protecting  angel  near, 
To  never  round  my  William's  head  : 
He  was  beloved  by  all  the  plain, 

His  father's  pride,  his  mother's  joy, 
Then  safely  to  their  amis  restore 
Their  much  lored  little  sailor  boy. 


MINSTREL, 

May  no  rude  foe  his  course  impede— 

Conduct  him  safely  o'er  the  waves— 
O,  may  he  never  be  compelled 

To  fight  for  power,  or  mix  with  slave. 
May  smiling  peace  his  steps  attend, 

Each  rising  hour  be  crown'd  with  joy. 
As  blest  as  that  when  I  again 

Shall  meet  my  much  loved  sailor  boy." 


MERMAID  SOXG. 
Sung  by  Miss  Kelly. 
Follow,  follow  thro'  the  sea, 
To  the  mermaid's  melody  : 
Saf  ly,  freely  shalt  thou  range, 
Thro'  things  dreadful,  quaint,  and  strange. 
And  thro"  iiquid  walls  behold, 
Wonders  that  may  not  be  told. 

Treasures  too,  for  ages  lost, 

Gems  surpassing  human  cost ; 

Fearless  follow,  follow  me, 

Thror  the  treasures  of  the  sea.  Bishop. 


BID  ME  DISCOURSE. 

Sung  by  Miss  Kelly, 

Bid  me  discourse,  I  will  enchant  thine  ear, 
Or  like  a  fain  trip  upon  the  green  ; 

Or  like  a  nymph,  with  bright  and  flowing  hair, 
Dance  on  the  sands,  and  yet  no  footing  seen. 


MINSTREL. 


COME,  TAKE  THE  HARP, 

Come,  take  the  harp— 'tis  vain  to  muse 

Upon  the  gathering  ills  we  see ! 
Oh  !  take  the  harp,  and  let  me  lose 

All  thoughts  of  ill  in  hearing  thee  .' 

Sing  to  me  love!  though  death  were  near, 
Thy  song  could  make  my  soul  forget— 

Nay,  nay,  in  pity,  dry  that  tear, 
All  may  be  well  be  happy  yet  I 

Let  me  but  see  that  snowy  arm 

Once  more  upon  the  dear  harp  lie, 
And  I  will  cease  to  dream  of  harm, 

Will  smile  at  fate,  while  thou  art  nigh  J 

Give  me  that  strain,  of  mournful  touch. 

We  us'd  to  love,  long,  long  ago, 
Before  our  hearts  had  known  as  much 

As  now,  alas  !  they  bleed  to  know  I 

Sweet  notes !  they  tell  of  former  peace, 
Of  all  that  look'd  so  rapturous  then, 

Now  wither'd,  lost — oh  !  pray  thee,  cease, 
I  cannot  bear  those  sounds  again! 

Art  thou  too  wretched  ?  yes,  thou  art  i 
I  see  thy  tears  flow  fast  with  mine- 
Come,  come  to  this  devoted  heart, 
'Tis  breaking,  but  it  still  is  thine !  T.  Moorti 

B 


IS  MINSTREL. 

BELIEVE  ME. 
Believe  me,  if  all  those  endearing  young  charms, 

Which  I  gaze  on  so  fondly  to-day, 
Were  to  change  by  to-morrow  and  fleet  in  my  arms, 

Like  fairy  gifts  fading  away  ; 
Thou  wouldst  still  be  ador'd  as  this  moment  thou  art, 

Let  thy  loveliness  fade  as  it  will ; 
And  around  the  dear  ruin,  each  wish  of  my  heart 

Would  entwine  itself  verdantly  still. 

It  is  not  while  beauty  and  youth  are  thine  own, 

And  thy  cheeks  unprofan'd  by  a  tear, 
That  the  fervour  and  faith  of  a  soul  can  be  known. 

To  which  time  will  but  make  thee  more  dear, 
Oh  I  the  heart  that  has  truly  lov'd  never  forgets, 

But  as  truly  loves  on  to  the  close ; 
As  the  sun-flower  turns  on  her  god  when  he  sets, 

The  same  look  which  she  tum'd  when  he  rose. 

T.  Moore* 


SAILOR'S  LAST  WHISTLE. 
Whether  sailor  or  not,  for  a  moment,  avast  I 
Poor  Jack's  mizen  top-sail  is  laid  to  the  mast, 
He'll  never  turn  out  or  will  more  heave  the  lead ; 
He's  now  all  aback,  nor  will  sails  shoot  ahead : 
Yet  though  worms  gnaw  his  timbers,  his  vessel  a  wreck, 
When  he  hears  the  last  whistle  he'll  jump  upon  deck. 

Secure  in  his  cabin,  he's  moord  in  the  grave, 
Nor  hears  any  more  the  loud  roar  of  the  wave  ; 


MINSTREL.  19 

Piess'd  by  death,  he  is  sent  to  the  tender  below, 
Where  seamen  and  lubbers  must  ev'ry  one  go, 

Yet  though,  See. 
For  sixty  long  years  was  his  passage  through  life, 
Attended  by  tempests,  for  Jack  had  a  wife  ; 
To  leeward  adversity's  current  ran  strong, 
But  the  rudder  of  honesty  bore  him  along, 

Yet  though,  &c. 
With  his  frame  a  mere  hulk,  and  his  reck'ning  on 

board, 
At  last  he  dropp'd  down  to  mortality's  road  ; 
With  eternity1!  ocean  before  him  in  view, 
He  cheerfully  piped  out  4  my  messmates  adieu  : 
For  though  worms  gnaw  my  timbers,  my  vessel  a 

wreck, 
When  I  hear  the  last  whistle,  I'll  jump  upon  deck.' 

COBLER  AND  GOOSE. 
A  cobler  liv'd  in  York, 

A  merry  man  was  he : 
His  wife  took  needle  work, 

A  kind  old  soul  was  she. 
Easy  as  an  old  shoe 

They  pass'd  their  lives  together, 
All  of  a  piece,  'tis  true, 

Like  sole  and  upper-leather. 
Spoken—  They  were  a  happy  couple,  worked  hard 
and  never  grumbled  at  the  times,  or  at  each  other, 
that's  a  rare  thing  in  our  days:  while  she  nimbly  em- 
ployed her  needle,  he  hammered  away  at  the  lapstone, 
and  sung 

Ran,  tan,  tan,  tan,  tan,  Sec. 


20  MINSTREL. 

This  cobbler  bought  a  goose, 

And  fattened  her  quite  high, 
Somehow  the  bird  got  loose 

The  day  it  was  to  die: 
*  Here  Pegs,'  bawl'd  out  the  wife, 

*  Run  after  the  goose  to  win  her  !' 
Goosey  she  ran  for  her  life, 
And  the  cobbler  ran  for  his  dinner. 
Spoken—  Away  he  went,  and  the  boys  after  hiui,  call- 
ing out,  '  Now  cobbler— now  goose :  two  to  one  on 
Pegs.'  Egad  he  almost  caught  her  once,  when  his  foot 
slipped,  and  headlong  he  went  into  the  sty,  among  a 
litter  of  pigs,  and  only  saved  his  bacon  by  leaving  the 
tail  of  his  coat  in  the  old  sow's  grinders.  But  Pegs 
wasn't  to  be  abashed,  he  followed  her  through  bush 
and  through  brier,  bogs  and  quagmires,  over  houses, 
trees,  hedges,  ditches,  fields,  cats,  dogs,  cocks,  hens, 
cows,  bulls  and  pigs.— At  last  he  knocked  down  the 
stall  of  an  old  woman  who  sold  hot  apple  dumplings — 
that  made  a  rare  scramble  for  the  boys;  and  what 
could  they  do  but  sing 

Ran,  tan,  tan,  &c. 
By  the  river  he  seized  her  rump, 

But  she  got  loose  with  a  scream, 
And  he  fell  in  the  water  plump, 

While  goosey  cross'd  the  stream. 
So  finding  the  chase  no  use, 
He  went  home  in  a  shiver. 
Told  wify  he'd  lost  the  goose, 
But  got  a  fine  duck  in  the  river. 
Spoken.— ■*  Oh,  wife,  wife  !'  he  cried,  *  I've  had  my 
morning's  wet,  the  goose  has  gone  a  gander  hunting. 
I  was  thrown  out,  and  had  fairly  a  tumbling  in ;  be- 


1 


MINSTREL.  21 

sides  leaving  half  my  jacket  in  pawn  in  the  piggery  ; 
my  wild  goose  chase  has  turned  out  a  duck,  but  no 
green  pease ;  and  as  I  am  very  wet  you  may  as  wel  i 
hand  us  over  a  drop  of 

Ran,  tan,  tan,  &c.  Dibdin. 


SOLDIER'S  BRIDE. 

The  moon  was  beaming  silver  bright, 

The  eye  no  cloud  could  view, 
Her  lover's  step,  in  silent  night, 
Well  pleased,  the  damsel  knew ; 
At  midnight  hour, 
Beneath  the  tower, 
He  murmur'd  soft,  *  oh  !  nothing  fearing, 

With  your  own  true  Soldier  fly, 
And  his  faithful  heart  be  cheering ; 

List  dear !  'tis  I ; 
List !  list  I  list !  love,  lift !  dear,  'tis  I; 
With  thine  own  tire  Soldier  fly.' 

Then  whisper'd  Love,  *  Oh !  maiden  fair  ! 

Ere  morning  sheds  its  ray, 
Thy  lover  calls— all  peril  dare, 
And  haste  to  horse  away  ! 
In  time  of  need, 
Yon  gallant  steed 
That  champs  the  rein,  delay  reproving. 

Shall  each  peril  bear  thee  by, 
With  his  master's  charmer  roving ; 
List  dear !  'tis  I ;  &c. 


22  MINSTREL. 

And  now  her  gallant  Soldier's  bride, 

She's  fled  her  home  afar, 
And  chance,  or  joy,  or  wo  betide, 
She'll  brave  with  him  the  war! 
And  bless  the  hour, 
When  'neath  the  tower, 
He  whisper'd  soft,  *  Oh !  nothing  fearing, 

With  thine  own  true  soldier  fly, 
And  his  faithful  heart  be  cheering : 
List  dear !  'tis  I ;  &c. 

LONEY  MACTWOLTER. 

O,  whack !  Cupid's  a  mannikin  ; 

Smack  on  my  heart  he  hit  me  a  polter. 
Good  lack,  Judy  O'Flannikin  ! 

Dearly  she  loves  nate  Looney  Mactwolter. 
Judy's  my  darling,  my  kisses  she  suffers ; 
She's  an  heiress,  that's  clear, 
For  her  father  sell's  beer ; 
He  keeps  the  sign  of  the  cow  and  the  snuffers. 
She's  so  smart, 
From  my  heart 
I  cannot  bolt  her. 
Oh,  whack,  Judy  O'Flannikin ! 
She  is  the  girl  for  Looney  Mactwolter. 

Oh,  whack,  &c. 
Och,  hone I  good  news,  I  need  a  bit ! 

We'd  correspond,  but  laming  would  choke  her. 
Mavrone !— I  cannot  read  a  bit ; 
Judy  can't  tell  a  pen  from  a  poker. 


MINSTREL.  23 

Judy's  so  constant,  I'll  never  forsake  her ; 
She's  true  as  the  moon  ;— 
Only  one  afternoon 
I  caught  her  asleep  with  a  humpback  shoemaker, 
Oh,  she's  so  smart,  &c 

Coleman. 


THE  WOUNDED  HUSSAR. 
Alone  on  the  banks  of  the  dark  rolling  Danube, 

Fair  Adelaide  hied  when  the  battle  was  o'er ; 
lO,  whither'  she  cried, '  hast  thou  wander'd  my  love  ? 

Or  where  dost  thou  welter  and  bleed  on  the  shore  ? 
What  voice  have  I  heard  ?    'Twas  my  Henry  that 
sighed :' 

All  mournful  she  hasten'd,  nor  wander'd  she  far, 
When,  bleeding  and  low  on  the  heat\  she  descried, 

By  the  light  of  the  moon,  her  poor  wounded  Hussar. 
From  his  bosom,  that  heaved,  the  last  torrent  was 
streaming ; 

And  pale  was  his  visage,  deep  mark'd  with  a  scar  ; 
And  dim  was  that  eye,  once  expressively  beaming, 

That  melted  in  love,  and  that  kindled  in  war ; 
How  smit  was  poor  Adelaide's  heart  at  the  sight ; 
How  bitter  she  wept  o'er  the  victim  of  war ! 
'  Hast  thou  come,  my  fond  love,  this  last  sorrowful 
night, 

To  cheer  the  lone  heart  of  your  wounded  Hussar  V 

*  Thou  shalt  live,'  she  replied,  *  heaven's  mercy  re- 
lieving 
Each  anguishing  wound,  shall  forbid  me  to  mourn ;' 


54  MINSTREL. 

4  Ah  !  no ;  the  last  pang  in  my  bosom  is  heaving, 
No  light  of  the  morn  shall  to  Heniy  return. 

Thou  charmer  of  life,  ever  tender  and  true, 
Ye  babes  of  my  love,  that  await  me  afar ;' 

His  faltering  tongue  scarce  could  murmur  adieu, 
When  he  sunk  in  her  arms— the  poor  wounded  Hus' 
sar.  Campbell. 

THE  ROSE-BUD. 
When  the  rose-bud  of  summer,  its  beauty  bestowing, 

On  winter's  rude  banks  all  its  sweetness  shall  pour, 
And  the  sunshine  of  day  in  night's  darkness  be  glow- 

O  !  then,  dearest  Ellen,  I'll  love  you  no  more.  [ingy 

When  of  hope  the  last  spark,  which  thy  smile  loved  to 
cherish, 
In  my  bosom  shall  die,  and  its  splendor  be  o'er, 
And  the  pulse  of  that  heart  which  adores  you  shall  pe- 
rish, 
Oh !  then,  dearest  Ellen,  I'll  love  you  no  more. 

T.  Moore, 

DESERTED  BY  THE  WANING  MOON. 
Deserted  by  the  waning  moon, 
When  skies  proclaim  night's  cheerless  noon, 
On  tower,  or  fort,  or  tented  ground, 
The  sentry  walks  his  lonely  round  : 
And  should  a  footstep  haply  stray 
Where  caution  marks  the  guarded  way— 
Who  goes  there  ?  stranger,  quickly  tell ; 
A  friend— a  friend— good  night— all's  well. 


MINSTREL.  25 

Or  sailing  on  the  midnight  deep, 
While  weary  messmates  soundly  sleep, 
The  careful  watch  patroles  the  deck, 
To  guard  the  ship1  from  foes  o>  wreck  : 
And  while  his  thoughts  oft  homeward  veer, 
Some  well  known  voice  salutes  his  ear— 
What  cheer !  oh  !  brother,  quickly  tell, 
Above !— below  .'—good  night  I— all's  well. 

T.Dibdin. 


DAME  DURDEX. 

Dame  Durden  kept  five  serving  girls, 

To  cany  the  milking  pail ; 
She  also  kept  five  labouring  men, 
To  use  the  spade  and  flail. 
Twas  Moll  and  Bet,  and  Doll  and  Kate,  and  Dorothy 

Draggletail ; 
Vnd  John  and  Dick,  and  Joe  and  Jack,  and  Humphry 
with  his  flail. 

'Twas  John  kiss'd  Molly! 

And  Dick  kiss'd  Betty! 
And  Joe  kiss'd  Dolly! 

And  Jack  kiss'd  Katy! 
And  Dorothy  Draggletail, 
And  Humphrey  with  his  flail; 
And  Kitty  was  a  charming  girl  to  carry  the  milking 
pail. 

Dame  Durden  in  the  morn  so  soon 
She  did  begin  to  call ; 


MINSTREL. 

To  rouse  her  servants,  maids  and  men, 
She  then  began  to  bawl. 

'Twas  Moll  and  Bet,  &c. 

'  Twas  on  the  morn  of  Valentine, 

The  birds  began  to  prate  ; 
Dame  Durden's  servants,  maids  and  men, 

They  all  began  to  mate. 

'Twas  Moll  and  Bet,  &c. 


THE  SAVOYARD  BOY. 

I  come  from  a  land  far  away, 

My  parents  to  keep  me,  too  poor ; 
To  please  you  I  sing  and  I  play, 

Yet  a  living  can  scarcely  procure. 
About,  sad  and  hungry  I  go, 

Though  smiling  as  if  'twere  with  joy  ; 
Then  a  trifle  in  pity  bestow, 

To  relieve  a  poor  Savoyard  boy. 

When  around  me  the  children  I  see 
So  careless  and  happy  appear, 

I  sigh  whiJc  fhej-  listen  to  me, 
And  oft  as  I  play  drop  a  tear. 

I  cannct  help  thinking  that  they, 
Can  fly  to  their  parents  with  joy  : 

While  mine  they  are  far,  far  away- 
Then  relieve  a  poor  Savoyard  boy. 

C.  Dibden.jur.> 


MIXSTREL.  27 

LITTLE  CHIMNEY-SWEEP. 
rwas  a  keen  frosty  morn,  and  the  snow  heavy  falling, 
Vhen  a  child  of  misfortune  was  thus  sadly  calling-, 
Sweep !  sweep !  I  am  cold,  and  the  snow's  very  deep, 
>pray  take  compassion' on  poor  little  sweep  ; 

Sweep !  Sweep !' 
lie  [tears  down  his  cheeks  in  large  drops  were  fast 

rolling, 
Tnnotictd,  unpitied  by  those  by  him  strolling, 
Vho  frequently  warned  him  at  distance  to  keep, 
Vhile  he  cried  *  Take  compassion  on  poor  little  sweep. 

n  vain  he  implored  passing  strangers  for  pity  ; 

Tiis  smiled  at  his  'plaints,  and  that  banter'd  his  ditty; 

lumanity's  offspring  as  yet  lay  asleep, 

for  heard  the  sad  wailing  of  poor  little  sweep. 

it  the  step  of  a  door,  half  froze  and  dejected, 
le  sat  down  and  jrieved,  to  be  shun'd  and  neglected ; 
Vhen  a  kind-hearted  damsel  by  chance  saw  him  weep, 
.nd  resolved  to  befriend  him,  the  poor  little  sweep. 

Jnmindful  of  sneers,  to  a  neighbour's  she  led  him, 
Varm'd  his  limbs  by  the  fire,  and  tenderly  fed  him ; 
.nd  oh  !  what  delight  dad  this  fair  maiden  reap, 
Vhen  she  found  a  lost  brother  in  poor  little  sweep ! 

a  rapture  she  gazed  on  each  black  sooty  feature, 
..nd  hugg'd  to  her  bosom  the  foul-smelling  creature, 
Vho,  saved  by  a  sister,  no  longer  need  creep 
liro'  lanes,  courts  and  alleys,  a  poor  little  iweep. 


28  MINSTREL. 

SIEGE  OF  PLATTSBURGH. 
Back  side  Albany  stan'  Lake  Champlain. 

One  little  pond,  half  full  a  water, 
Plat-te-bug  dare  too,  close  'pon  de  main, 
Town  small— he  grow  bigger  do  herea'ter. 

On  Lake  Champlain 

Uncle  Sam  set  he  boat, 
And  Massa  M'Donough  he  sail  'em ; 

While  Gen'ral  M'Comb 

Make  Plat-te-bug  he  home, 
Wid  de  army,  who  courage  nebber  fail  'em. 
On  'lebenth  day  of  September, 

In  eighteen  hund'ed  an  fourteen, 
Gubbener  Probose,  and  he  British  soger, 
Come  to  Plat-te-bug  a  tea  party  courtin ; 

And  he  boat  come  loo 

Arter  Uncle  Sari  boat, 
Massa  'Donough  do  look  sharp  out  de  winder- 
Den  Gen'ral  M'Con>h, 

(Ah  !  he  al1  ay   i  home,) 
Catch  fire  too,  jis  like  a  tinder. 
Bang !  bang !  bang !  den  de  cannon  gin  t'  roar 

In  Plat-te-bug,  and  all  'bout  dat  quarter ; 

Gubbener  Probose  try  he  hand  'pon  de  shore. 

While  he  boat  take  he  luck  'pon  de  water— 

Dut  Massa  M'Donough 

Knock  he  boat  in  he  head, 
Break  he  hart,  broke  he  shin,  'tove  he  caffin  in, 

And  Gen'ral  M'Comb 

Start  old  Probose  home- 
Tot  me  soul  den,  I  mus  die  a  laffin. 


MINSTREL. 

'robose  scare  so,  he  lef  all  behine, 
Powder,  ball,  cannon,  tea-pot  an  kittle— 
ome  say  he  cotch  a  cole — trouble  in  he  mine  ; 
Cause  he  eat  so  much  raw  and  cole  vittle — 

Uncle  Sam  berry  sorry, 

To  be  sure,  for  he  pain  ; 
Fish  he  nuss  himself  up  well  an  harty — 

For  Gen'ral  M'Comb 

An  Massa  'Donough  home, 
fhen  he  notion  for  a  nudder  tea  party. 


WILL  WATCH. 

as  one  morn,  when  the  wind  from  the  northward 

blew  keenly, 
Tiile  sullenly  roar'd  the  big  waves  of  the  main, 
uned  smuggler,  Will  Watch,  kiss'd  his  Sue,  then 
>    serenely 

ook  helm,  and  to  sea  boldly  steer'd  out  again, 
i  had  promked  his  Sue,  that  this  trip,  if  well  ended, 
iouW  toil  up  his  hopes,  and  he'd  anchor  on  shore ; 
m  his  pockets  were  lined,  why  his  life  should  be 

mended ; 
lie  laws  he  had  broken  he'd  never  break  more. 

«aboat  was  trim,  made  her  port,  took  her  lading, 
len  Will  stood  for  home,  reach'd  the  offing  &  cried  ? 
I  night,  if  I've  luck,  furls  the  sails  of  my  trading ; 
!  dock  I  can  lay,  serve  a  friend  too  beside. 
!  lay-to  till  the  night  came  on  darksome  and  dreary, 
o  crowd  every  sail  then  he  piped  up  each  hand  i 


30  MINSTREL. 

But  a  signal  soon  spied,  'twas  a  prospect  uncheery, 
A  signal  that  warn'd  him  to  bear  from  the  land, 

The  Philistines  are  out,  cries  Will,  we'll  take  no  heed 
on't, 
Attack'd,  who's  the  man  that  will  flinch  from  his 
gun; 
Should  my  head  be  blown  off,  I  shall  ne'er  feel  the 
need  on't— 
We'll  fight  while  we  can;  when  we  can't,  boys, 
we'll  run. 
Thro'  the  haze  of  the  night  a  bright  flash  now  appear* 
ing, 
Oh !  now,  cries  Will  Watch,  the  Philistines  bear 
down ; 
Bear-a-hand,  my  tight  lads,  ere  we  think  about  sheer- 
ing, 
One  broadside  paur  in,  should  we  swim,  boys,  or 
drown. 

But  should  I  be  popp'd  off,  you,  my  mates,  left  be 
hind  me. 
Regard  my  last  words,  see  'em  kindly  obeyed : 
Let  no  stone  mark  the  spot,  and,  my  friends,  do  you 
mind  me, 
Near  the  bench  is  the  grave  where  Will  Watch  would 
be  laid. 
Poor  Will's  yam  was  spun  out—for  a  bullet  next  minute 
Laid  him  low  on  the  deck  and  he  never  spoke  more; 
His  bold  crew  fought  the  brig  while  a  shot  remained 
in  it, 
Then  sheer'd— and  Will's  hull  to  his  Susan  they  bore. 


MINSTREL.  31 

i  the  dead  of  the  night  his  last  wish  was  complied 

with, 
To  R  m  known  his  grave,  and  to  few  known  his  end; 
.e  was  borne  to  the  earth  by  the  crew  that  he  died 

with. 
He'd  th^  tears  of  his  Susan,  the  prayers  of  each 

friend, 
ear  his  grave  dash  the  billows,  the  winds  loudly 

bellow. 
Yon  ash  struck  with  lightning,  points  out  the  cold 

bed 
There  Will  Watch,  the  bold  smuggler,  that  famed 

lawless  fellow, 
Once  feared,  now  forgot,  sleeps  in  peace  with  the 

dead. 


SANDY  O'ER  THE  LEE. 
winna  marry  ony  mon  but  Sandy  o'er  the  Lee  ; 
winna  ha'  the  Doiniaee9for  erude  he  canna  be  ; 
ut  I  will  ha'mj-  Saidy  lad.  my  Sandy  o'er  the  lee. 
For  he's  aye  a  kissing,  kissing,  aye  a  kissing  me. 

will  not  ha'  the  minister,  for  a'  his  godly  looks, 
or  yet  will  I  the  lawyer  ha'  for  a'  Ins  wily  crooks  : 
will  not  ha'  the  ploughman  lad,  nor  yet  will  I  the 

miller ; 
ut  I  will  ha'  my  Sandy  lad,  without  one  penny 

siller. 
For  he's  aye  a  kissing,  See. 


32  MINSTREL. 

I  will  not  ha'  the  soldier  lad,  for  he  gangs  to  the  war, 
I  will  not  ha'  the  sailor  lad,  because  he  smells  of  tar : 
I  will  not  have  the  lord  or  laird,  for  a'  their  mickle  gear: 
But  I  will  ha'  my  Sandy  lad,  my  Sandy  o'er  the  mier. 
For  he's  aye  a  kissing,  &c.  Burns* 

I'VE  KISS'D  AND  I'VE  PRATTLED. 
I've  kiss'd  and  I've  prattled  with  fifty  fair  maids, 

And  changed  them  as  oft,  do  you  see  ? 
But,  of  all  the  gay  lasses  that  sport  on  the  green, 

The  maid  of  the  mill  for  me. 
There's  fifty  young  men  have  told  me  fine  tales, 

And  call'd  me  the  fairest  she  ; 
But,  of  all  the  young  men  that  danced  on  the  green, 

Young  Harry's  the  lad  for  me. 
Her  eyes  are  as  black  as  the  sloe  in  the  hedge, 

Her  cheeks  like  the  blossoms  in  May ; 
Her  teeth  are  as  white  as  the  new-shorn  flock, 

Her  breath  like  the  new  made  hay. 
He's  tall  and  he's  straight  as  the  poplar  tree, 

His  cheeks  as  red  as  therose ; 
He  looks  like  a  squire  of  high  degree, 

When  dressed  in  his  sunday  clothes. 

Mrs.  Brooke* 

I'LL  LOVE  THEE  NIGHT  AND  DAY. 

Be  mine,  dear  maid ;  this  faithful  heart 

Can  never  prove  untrue  ; 
'T  were  easier  far  from  life  to  part, 

Than  cease  to  live  for  you. 


MINSTREL.  S3 

Then  turn  thee  not  away,  my  love ; 

Oh  !  turn  thee  not  away,  my  love ; 
For,  by  the  light  of  truth,  I  swear 

To  love  thee  night  and  clay,  love. 

The  lark  shall  first  forget  to  sing, 

When  morn  unfolds  the  east, 
Ere  I  by  change  or  coldness  wring 
Thy  fond  confiding  breast. 

Then  turn  thee  not  away,  &c 

Terry, 


MY  HIGHLAND  HOME. 

My  Highland  home,  where  tempests  blow, 

And  cold  thy  wint'ry  looks  ; 
Thy  mountain's  crowned  wi'  driven  snow, 

And  icebound  are  thy  brooks : 
But  colder  far's  the  Briton's  heart, 

However  far  he  roam, 
To  whom  these  words  no  joy  impart, 

My  native  Highla  . '  home  ! 
Then  gang  wi'  me  to  St  >tland  dear, 

We  ne'er  again  will  roa  •  ; 
And,  with  thy  smile  so  bonn>   cheer 

My  native  Highland  home. 

When  summer  comes,  the  heather  bell 

Shall  tempt  thy  feet  to  rove  ; 
The  cushat-dove  within  the  dell 

Incites  to  peace  and  love : 

C 


4  MINSTREL, 

For  blithsoine  is  the  break  of  day, 

And  sweet's  the  bonny  broom, 
And  pure  the  dimpling  rills  that  play 

Around  my  Highland  home. 

Tnen  gang  wi'  me,  &c.  Morton. 


THE  LIGHT  HOUSE. 

The  scene  was  more  beautiful  far  to  my  eye, 

Than  if  day  in  its  pride  had  arrayed  it. 
The  land  breese  blew  mild,  and  the  azure  arch'd  sky 

Look'd  pure  as  the  Spirit  that  made  it : 
The  murmur  rose  soft  as  I  silently  gaz*d 

In  the  shadowy  waves'  playful  motion, 
From  the  dim  distant  hill,  'till  the  Light-house  fire 
blaz'd 

Like  a  star  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean. 

Xo  longer  the  joy  of  the  sailor  boy's  breast 

Was  heard  in  his  wildly  breath'd  numbers. 
The  sea-bird  had  flown  to  her  «  ave  girdled  nest, 

The  fisherman  sunk  to  his  slumbers : 
One  moment  I  look'd  from  the  hill's  gentle  slope, 

All  hush'd  was  the  billows'  commotion, 
And  tho't  that  the  Light-house  look'd  lovely  as  hope. 

That  star  of  life's  tremulous  ocean. 

The  time  is  long  past,  and  the  scene  is  afar, 

Yet  when  my  head  rests  on  its  pillow, 
"Will  memory  sometimes  rekindle  the  star 

That  blaz'd  on  the  breast  of  the  billow  : 


MINSTREL. 

In  life's  closing-  hour,  when  the  trembling  soul  flif.% 
And  death  stills  the  heart's  last  emotion  ; 

O  then  may  the  seraph  of  mercy  arise* 
Like  a  star  on  eternity's  ocean. 

T.Moon 


LOVE  MY  MARY. 

2d  Voice—- Love,  my  Mary,  dwells  w  ith  thee. 

On  thy  cheek  his  bed  I  see. 
1st  Voice— 'So,  that  cheek  is  pale  with  care-, 

Love  can  find  no  roses  there  ; 

No,  no,  no,  no,  no,  no, 

No  roses  there,  no,  no. 
Duett 'Tis  not  on  the  cheek  of  rosr. 

Love  can  find  the  best  repose, 

In  my  heart  his  home  thou'lt  see, 

There  ue  lives,  and  lives  for  thee. 

2d  Voice—  Love,  my  Mary,  ne'er  can  roam. 

While  he  makes  that  eye  his  home. 
Ut  Voice—  No,  the  eye  with  sorrow  dim, 

Ne'er  can  be  a  home  for  him, 

Nc  "er  can  be,  no,  no,  no, 

A  home  for  him,  no,  no. 
Duett       -Yet  'tis  not  in  beaming  eyes 

Love  for  ever  warmest  lies  ; 

In  my  heart  his  home  thou'lt  see. 

There  he  lives,  and  lives  for  thee. 

T.  Moorr, 


MINSTREL. 


ROSA. 


Wilt  thou  say  farewell,  love,  and  from  Rosa  part 
Rosa's  tears  wii)  tell  love,  the  anguish  of  her  heart ! 
I'll  still  be  thine,  and  thou'lt  be  mine, 

I'll  love  thee  tho'  we  sever, 
Oh  !  say  can  I,  e'er  cease  to  sigh, 
Or  cease  to  love,  no  never ! 
Wilt  thou  think  of  me,  love,  when  thou  art  far  away, 
Oh  !  Ill  think  of  thee,  love,  never,  never  stray. 
I'il  still  be  thine,  &c. 

Let  not  others'  wile,  love,  thy  ardent  heart  betray, 
Remember  Rosa's  smile,  love,  Rosa  far  aw  ay. 
I'll  still  be  thine,  &c. 


T.  Moore. 


I  HAVE  LOV'D  THEE. 

I'have  lov'd  thee,  dearly  lov'd  thee, 

Through  an  age  of  •worldly  woe, 
How  ungrateful  I  have  proved  thee, 

Let  my  mournful  exile  show. 
Ten  long  years  of  anxious  sorrow, 

Hour  by  hour  I  counted  o'er, 
Looking  forward  till  to-morrow, 

Ev'ry  day  I  lov'd  thee  more. 

Power  nor  splendor  could  not  charm  me, 

I  no  joy  in  wealth  could  see, 
Nor  could  threats  or  fears  alarm  me. 

Save  the  fear  of  losing1  thee : 


MlNSTREt-  37 

When  the  storms  of  fortune  press'd  thee, 

I  have  wept  to  see  thee  weep, 
When  relentless  cares  distress'd  thee, 

I  have  lull'd  those  cares  to  sleep. 

Mrs.  Robinson, 


FANCY'S  SKETCH. 

Here  mark  the  poor  desolate  maid, 

By  a  parents  ambition  be tray'd, 
Behold  on  her  fast  fading  cheek, 

The  tears  that  her  agony  speak  : 
And  here  stands  the  well  belov'd  youth. 

Calling  heaven  to  witness  his  truth  ; 
And  there  stands  the  murderous  wretch. 

But  mark  me,  but  mark  me  l 
'Tis  but  fancy's  sketch. 

Behold  in  his  face  are  express'd, 

The  passions  that  rage  in  his  breast ; 
Here  read,  while  he  dares  to  demand 

Of  her  parents,  this  maiden's  fair  hand  ; 
While  deep  in  his  dungeon  secur'd, 

A  still  living  wife  is  immur'd ; 
Who  cures  the  murderous  wretch, 

But  start  not !  start  not ! 
'Tis  but  fancy's  sketch.  Braham. 


THE  MINUTE  GUN  AT  SEA. 

Let  him  who  sighs  in  sadness,  here, 
Rejoice,  and  know  a  friend  is  near. 


M  MINSTREL. 

What  heavenly  sounds  are  those  I  hear  ? 
What  being  comes,  the  gioom  to  cheer .' 

When  in  the  storm  on  Albion's  coast, 
The  night-watch  guards  his  weary  post, 

From  thought  of  danger  free. 
He  marks  some  vessel's  dusky  form, 
And  hears  amid  the  howling  storm, 

The  minute  gun  at  sea, 

The  minute  gun  at  sea, 
And  hears  amid  the  howling  storm, 

The  minute  gun  at  sea, 

Swift  from  the  shore  a  hardy  few— 

The  life-boat  mann'd  with  a  gallant  crew, 

And  dare  the  dangerous  wave. 
Through  the  wild  surf  they  cleave  their  way ; 
Lost  in  the  foam,  nor  know  dismay— 

For  they  go  tht  crew  to  save, 

For  they  go  the  crew  to  save, 
Lost  in  the  foam,  nor  know  dismay— 

For  they  go  the  crew  to  save. 

But  oh  !  what  rapture  fills  each  breast 

Of  the  hopeless  crew  of  the  ship  distress'd ; 

When  landed  safe,  what  joys  to  tell, 

Of  all  the  dangers  that  befell. 

Then  is  heard  no  more, 
Then  is  heard  no  more, 

Then  is  heard  no  more  by  the  watch  on  the  shore, 
The  minute  gun  at  sea. 

M.P.King, 


MINSTREL. 


AFTOX  WATER. 


Flow  gently  sweet  Afton  among  thy  green  brarr, 
Flew  gently.  I'll  sing  thee  a  song  in  thy  praise  ; 
My  Mary's  asleep  by  thy  murmuring  stream. 
Flow  gently,  sweet  Alton,  disturb  not  her  dream. 

Thou  stock  dove  whose  echo  resounds  thro'  the  glen. 
Ye  wild  whistling  blackbirds  in  yon  thorny  den, 
Thou  green  crested  lapwing  thy  screaming  forbear, 
I  charge  you  disturb  not  my  slumbering  fair. 

How  lofty,  sweet  Afton,  thy  neighbouring  hills, 
Far  mark'd  with  the  courses  of  clear,  winding  rills ; 
There  dai'y  I  wander  as  noon  rises  high, 
My  flocks  and  my  Mary's  sweet  cot  in  my  eye. 

How  pleasant  thy  banks  and  green  vallies  below, 
Where  wild  in  the  w  oodlands  the  primroses  blow  ; 
There  oft  as  mild  evening  weeps  over  the  lea, 
The  sweet  scented  birk  shades  my  Mary  and  me. 

Thy  crystal  stream,  Afton,  how  lovely  it  glides, 
And  w  inds  by  the  cot  where  my  Mary  resides  ; 
How  wanton  thy  waters  her  snowy  feet  lave, 
As  gathering  sweet  flowerets  she  steins  thy  clear  wave. 

Flow  gently,  swreet  Afton,  among  thy  green  braes, 
Flow  gently,  sweet  river,  the  theme  qf  my  lays, 
My  Mary's  asleep  by  thy  murmuring  stream, 
Flow  gently,  sweet  Afton,  disturb  not  her  dream. 

Burns, 


10  MINSTREL. 

BANKS  OF  BONNIE  DOON. 
Ye  banks  and  braes  o'  bonnie  Doon, 

How  can  ye  bloom  sae  fresh  and  fair ; 
How  can  ye  chant,  ye  little  birds, 

And  I  sae  weary  fir  o'  care ! 
Thou'll  break  my  heart  thou  warbling  bird, 

That  wantons  thro'  the  flow'ring  thorn ; 
Thou  minds  me  o'  departed  joys. 

Departed  never  to  return. 
Oft  have  I  rov'd  by  bonnie  Doon, 

To  see  the  rose  and  woodbine  twine : 
And  ilka  bird  sang  or  its  luve, 

And  fondly  sae  did  I  o'  mine. 
Wi'  lightsome  heart  I  pu'd  a  rose, 

Fu'  sweet  upon  its  thorny  tree ; 
And  my  fause  luver  stole  my  rose, 

But  ah  1  he  left  the  thorn  wi'  me.  Burn** 


AULD  LANG  SYNE. 
Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 

And  nevvr  brought  to  min'  ? 
Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot, 
And  days  o'  lang  syne  ? 
For  auld  lang  syne,  my  dear, 

For  auld  lang  syne, 
We'll  tak'  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet, 
For  auld  lang  syne. 


MINSTREL.  41 

We  twa  hae  run  about  the  braes, 

And  pu'd  the  go  wans  fine  ; 
But  we've  wander'd  mony  a  weary  foot 
Sin'  auld  laug  syne. 
For  auld,  &c. 
We  twa  hae  paidl't  i'  the  burn, 

Frae  mornin'  sun  till  dine  : 
But  seas  between  us  braid  hae  roar'd, 
Sin'  auld  lang  syne. 
For  auld,  &c. 
And  here's  a  hand,  my  trusty  fiere, 

And  gie's  a  hand  o'  thine  ; 
And  we'll  tak'  a  right  guide  wille-waught 
For  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld,  &c. 
And  surely  ye'll  be  your  pint-stowp, 

And  surely  I'll  be  mine  ; 
And  we'll  tak'  a  cup  o'  kindness  yet, 
For  auld  lang  syne. 

For  auld,  &c.  Burns* 


AESENCE. 
Days  of  absence,  sad  and  dreary, 

Cloth'd  in  sorrow's  dark  array  ; 
Days  of  absence,  I  am  weary, 

Her  I  love  is  far  away. 
Hours  of  bliss,  too  quickly  vanished, 

When  will  aught  like  you  return  ; 
When  the  heavy  sigh  be  banish'd  ; 

When  this  bosom  cease  to  m©un\. 


42  MINSTREL. 

Not  till  that  lov'd  voice  can  greet  me, 

Which  so  oft  has  charm'd  mine  ear ; 
Not  till  those  ftweet  eyes  can  meet  me, 

Telling;  that  I  still  am  dear : 
Days  of  absence  then  will  vanish, 

Joy  will  all  my  pangs  repay ; 
Soon  my  bosom's  idol  banish 

Gloom,  but  felt  when  she's  away. 

All  my  love  is  turned  to  sadness, 

Absence  pays  the  tender  vow, 
Hopes  that  fiil'd  the  heart  with  gladness., 

Mem'ry  turns  to  anguish  now  : 
Love  may  yet  return  to  greet  me, 

Hope  may  take  the  place  of  pain ; 
Antoinette  with  kisses  meet  me, 

Breathing  love  and  peace  again. 


THE  CARRIER  PIDGEON. 

Come  hither  thou  beautiful  rover, 

Thou  wand'rer  of  earth  and  of  air ; 
Who  beaiest  the  sighs  of  a  lover, 

And  bringest  him  news  of  his  fair  ; 
Bend  hither  thy  light  waving  pinion, 

And  show  me  the  gloss  of  thy  neck ; 
O  perch  on  my  hand  dearest  minion, 

And  turn  up  thy  bright  eye  and  peck. 

Here  is  bread  of  the  whitest  and  sweetest. 
And  there  is  a  sip  of  red  wine ; 


MINSTREL.  43 

Though  thy  wing-  is  the  lightest  and  fleetest, 
'T  « ill  be  fleeter  when  ner\  'd  by  the  vine : 

I  have  written  on  rose  scented  paper, 
With  thy  wing"  quill,  a  soft  billet  doux, 

1  have  melted  the  wax  in  love's  taper, 
'Tis  the  colour  of  true  hearts'  sky  blue. 

I  have  fast'ned  it  under  thy  pinion. 

With  a  blue  ribbon  round  thy  soft  neck  ; 
So  go   rom  me  beautiful  minion, 

While  the  pure  ether  shows  not  a  speck : 
Like  a  cloud  in  the  dim  distance  fleeting, 

Like  an  arrow  he  hurries  away  ; 
And  farther  and  farther  retreating, 

He  is  lost  in  the  clear  blue  of  day.         PercivaL 


CONVENT  BELL. 
Far,  far  o'er  hiil  and  dell 

On  the  winds  stealing, 
List  to  the  convent  bell, 

Mournfully  pealing ; 
Hark  !  Hark  !  it  seems  to  say 

1  As  melt  these  sounds  away, 
So  life's  best  joys  decay, 

Whilst  new  their  feeling.' 
Far,  far,  &c. 

Now  through  the  charmed  ail* 

Slowly  ascending, 
List  to  the  chaunted  prayer, 

Solemnly  blending; 


MINSTREL. 

Hark  I  Hark  !  it  seems  to  say, 

'  Turn  from  such  joys  away 
To  those  which  ne'er  decay, 

Though  life  is  ending.' 

Far,  far,  &c  J.  /?.  Planc/ie . 

BOYS  OF  SWITZERLAND. 
Our  cot  was  shelter'd  in  a  wood, 
And  near  a  lake's  green  margin  stood  , 
A  mountain  bleak  behind  us  frown'd, 
Whose  top  the  snow  in  summer  crown'd. 
But  pastures  rich  and  warm  to  boot, 
Lay  smiling  at  the  mountain's  foot ; 
There  first  we  frolick'd  hand  in  hand, 
Two  infant  boys  of  Switzerland. 
When  scarcely  old  enough  to  know, 
The  meaning  of  a  tale  of  woe, 
'Twas  then  by  mother  we  were  told, 
That  father  in  his  grave  lie  cold  ; 
That  livelihoods  were  hard  to  get, 
And  we  too  young  to  labour  yet— 
And  tears  within  her  eyes  would  stand, 
For  her  two  boys  of  Switzerland. 
But  soon  ftr  mother  as  we  grew, 
We  work'd  as  much  as  boys  could  do, 
Our  daily  gains  to  her  we  bore, 
But  ah '  she'll  ne'er  receive  them  more. 
For  long  we  watch'd  beside  her  bed, 
Then  sobb'd  to  see  her  lie  there  dead : 
And  now  we  wander  hand  in  hand, 
Two  orphan  boys  of  Switzerland.  Bishop, 


MINSTREL. 

OH  !  'TIS  LOVE. 

Oh  '.  'tis  love,  'tis  love,  'lis  love, 

That  rules  us  all  completely, 
Oh  .'  'tis  love,  'tis  love,  "tis  love, 

Commands,  and  we  obey. 

What  in  the  palace  or  the  hovel, 

Chace  so  quickly  care  away  ; 

What  is  the  theBtt  of  cv'ry  novel, 

What  is  the  plot  of  ev*ry  play  : 

Say,  NNhat  keeps  the  carriage 

Of  many  a  modern  miss, 
\nd  makes  even  marriage, 
Sometimes  a  state  of  bliss  : — 
Oh  !  'tis  love,  &c 

Love  yit  Ids  the  sweetest,  dearest  pleasure. 

Love  doubles  ever}-  other  charm  ; 
Love  makes  the  miser  yield  his  treasure, 
Love  e'en  the  Stoic:,  heart  can  warm : 
In  deserts  the  wildest, 

On  mountains  or  on  plains, 
Where  climates  are  mildest, 
Or  winter  ever  reigns. 

Oh  I  'tis  love,  &c.  Plane  he. 


STAR  SPANGLED  BANNER, 
©h  !  say  can  you  see  by  the  dawn's  early  light, 
What  so  proudly   we  hail'd  at  the  twilight's  last 
gleaming, 


46  MINSTREL. 

Whose  broad  stripes  and  bright  stars  thro"  the  peiilout 
fight, 
O'er  the  ramparts  we  watch'd  were  so  gallantly 
streaming. 
And  the  rocket's  red  glare,  the  bombs  bursting  in  air, 
Gave  proof  through  the  night  that  our  flag  was  still 
there. 
Oh  •'  say,  does  that  star  spangled  banner  yet  wave, 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave? 

On  the  shore  dimly  seen  thro'  the  mists  of  the  deep, 

Where  the  foe's  haughty  host  in  dread  silence  reposes, 
What  is  that  which  the  breeze,  o'er  the  tow'ring  steep 

As  it  fitfully  blows,  half  conceals,  half  discloses  : 
Now  it  catches  the  gleam  of  the  morning's  first  beam, 

In  full  glory  reflected,  new  shines  on  the  stream  : 
5Tis  the  star  spangled  banner,  oh  .'  Jong  may  it  wave. 

O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave. 

And  where  is  that  band  who  so  vauntingly  swore, 

That  the  havoc  of  war  and  the  battle's  confusion, 
A  home  and  a  country,  shall  leave  us  no  more, 

Their  blood  has  wash'd  out  their  foul  footsteps  pol- 
lution : 
No  refuge  could  save  the  hireling  and  slave, 

From  the  terror  of  flight,  or  the  gloom  of  the  grave, 
And  the  star  spangled  banner  in  triumph  doth  wave, 

O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave. 

Oh  !  thus  be  it  ever,  when  freemen  shall  stand 

Between  their  lov'd  home,  and  the  war's  desolation, 
Blest  with  vict'ry  and  peace,  may  the  heav'n  rescued 
and. 


MINSTREL.  47 

Praise  the  power  that  hath  made  and  pre  served  us 
a  nation : 
Then  conquer  we  must,  when  our  cause  it  is  just, 

And  this  be  our  motto—"  In  God  is  our  tni  :," 
And  the  star  spangled  banner  in  triumph  shall  v.  ave; 

O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave  ! 


MASTER  MASON'S  HYMN*. 
Air—  German  Hy.un. 
Ah  !  when  shall  we  three  meet  like  them, 
AVho  last  were  at  Jerusalem ; 
For  three  they  were,  and  one  i 
He  lies  where  Cassia  marks  tht  >pot. 

Though  poor  he  was.  with  kings  he  trod  ; 
Though  great,  he  humbly  kneit  to  God  : 
Ah  I  when  shall  those  restore  again 
The  broken  link  of  friendship's  chain  ? 
Behold  !  where  mourning  beauty  bent. 
In  silence  o'er  the  monument, 
And  wildly  spread  in  sorrow  there 
The  ringlets  of  her  flowing  hair. 

The  future  sons  of  grief  shall  sigh, 
While  standing  round  in  mystic  tie, 
And  raise  their  hands  alas !  to  heaven, 
In  anguish  that  no  hope  is  given. 

From  whence  we  came,  or  wither  go, 
Ask  me  no  more,  nor  seek  to  know, 
"Till  three  shall  meet,  who  form'd  like  (hen 
The  Grand  Lodge  at  Jerusalem  ' 


48  MINSTREL. 

THE  DYING  AMERICAN  TAR. 

His  couch  was  his  shroud— in  his  hammock  he  died— 

The  shct  of  the  Briton  was  true  ; 
He  breath'd  not  a  sigh,  but  faintly  he  cried, 

Adieu,  my  brave  shipmates,  adk-u  .' 
Away  to  your  stations  !  it  ne'er  must  be  said, 

Your  banner  you  furl'd  for  a  foe  ; 
Let  those  stars  ever  shine  at  your  mizen-mast  head, 

And  the  pathway  to  victory  show. 

Remember  the  accents  of  Lawrence  the  brave, 

Ere  his  spirit  had  fled  to  its  rest ; 
*  Don't  give  up  the  Ship  ."*   Let  her  sink  'neath  the 
wave, 

And  the  breeze  bear  her  fate  to  the  west. 
Oh,  swear  that  your  banner  shall  never  be  furl'd 

Let  me  hear  the  words  ••  Struck  has  the  foe  !" 
And  contented  my  soul  bids  adieu  to  the  world, 

To  its  pleasures,  its  pains,  and  its  woe. 

He  said— and  a  gun  to  the  lee-ward  w  as  heard, 
;T  was  the  enemy's  gun  well  he  knew  ; 

He  rais'd  up  his  head,  and  three  times  he  cheer'd, 
And  expired  as  he  utter'd— "  Adieu." 


BONNY  BOAT. 

O  swiftly  glides  the  bonny  boat,  just  parted  from  the 

shore, 
\nd  to  the  fisher's  chorus  note,  soft  moves  the  dipping 

oar: 


MINSTREL.  43 

Each  toil  is  borne  with  happy  cheer,  and  ever  may  they 

speed; 
That  feeble  age  and  help-mate  dear,  and  tender  bair- 

nies  feed. 
We  cast  our  lines  in  Largo  bay,  our  nets  are  floating; 

wide, 
Our  bonny  boat  with  yielding  sway,  rocks  lightly  on 

the  tide: 
And  happy  prove  our  daily  lot  upon  the  summer  sea, 
And  blest  on  land  our  kindly  cot,  where  all  our 

treasures  be. 

The  Mermaid  on  her  rock  may  sing,  the  witch  may 

weave  her  charm, 
Nor  water-sprite,  nor  eldrick  thing,  the  bonny  boat  can 

harm: 
It  safely  bears  its  scaly  store,  thro'  many  a  stormy  gale, 
While  joyful  shouts  rise  from  the  shore,  its  homeward 

prow  to  hail. 
We  cast  our  lines  in  Largo  bay,  &c. 
The  aged  matron  casts  her  eye  upon  the  troubled  deep, 
The  anxious  dame  looks  wistfully,  the  careless  bairn's 

sleep ; 
The  broad  red  sun  hath  set  in  blood,  the  sea-birds  sadly 

wail, 
The  lightning's  flash,  and  driving  scud,  bespeak  the 

coming  gale. 

'  our  lines  in  Largo  bay,  &c. 
The  storm  bursts  out,  the  signal  light  gleams  from  the- 

little  cot ; 
O'er  foaming  billows  briny  bright,  fast  bounds  the  bon- 
ny boat ;  *  D 


50  MINSTREL. 

They  double  Largo's  headland  wide,  and  shoot  across 

the  bay, 
"1  ill  in  the  cove  they  safely  ride,  though  gunnel  deep 
w  ith  spray. 
We  cast  our  lines  in  Largo  bay,  See. 

The  well  known  shout  of  safety  rings  from  out  the 

echoing  cove, 
The  speechless  mother  wildly  springs  to  him  whose 

voice  is  love  ; 
The  tale  is  told  to  greedy  ears,  of  peril  and  alarms, 
But  soon  the  dame  forgets  her  fears,  within  a  husband's 

arms. 
We  cast  our  hues  in  Largo  bay,  &c. 

MY  HEART  AND  LUTE, 
T  give  thee  all,  I  can  no  more, 

Though  poor  the  off 'ring  be ; 
My  heart  and  lute  are  all  the  store, 

That  I  can  bring  to  thee. 
A  lute,  whose  gentle  song  reveals 

The  soul  of  love  full  well. 
Av.d,  better  far,  a  heart  that  feels 
Much  more  than  lute  can  tell. 
I  give  thee  all,  I  can  no  more, 

Though  poor  the  off 'ring  be  ; 
My  heart  and  lute  are  ail  the  store 
That  I  can  bring  to  thee. 
Though  love  and  song  may  fail,  abu 
*  Q  keep  Jif<A  clouds  an  ay. 


MINSTREL.  51 

At  least  'twill  make  them  lighter  pass, 

Or  gild  them  if  they  stay. 
If  ever  care  his  discord  flings, 

O'er  life's  enchanted  strain, 
Let  love  but  gently  touch  the  strings, 

Twill  all  be  sweet  again. 

I  give  thee  all,  &c.  T.Moofc. 

THE  POST  OFFICE. 
In  a  Post  Office  bred, 
What  a  life  sure  I  led, 
When  I  handled  the  thoughts  of  my  betters  ; 
O,  it  was  such  a  scene, 
That  our  great  public  inn 
Might  be  called  the  republic  of  letters. 
To  Northumberland, 
And  Cumberland, 
To  Westmoreland, 
And  Sunderland, 
To  Hartford, 
And  Dartford, 
And  Bedford, 
And  Deptford, 
North,  south,  east,  and  west, 
To  each  comer  address'd, 

Such  a  wonderful  concentration. 
I  might  say  without  brag, 
I  could  shake  in  a  bag 

Half  the  wisdom  and  wit  of  the  nation. 
Spoken.—"  Do  pray  stand  away  from  the  windows, 
r  I  can't  see  to  give  out  the  letters."    {A  tq\ 


52  MINSTREL. 

voice)  "  Pray,  sir,  haven't  you  got  never  a  von  for  me— 
my  name's  Timothy  Twist ;  I'm  a  tailor,  and  its  from 
my  sweetheart,  Miss  Dorothy  Dumpling."  u  Yes,  here 
it  is,  all  over  grease,  and  sealed  with  a  thimble."  "Here, 
John,  is  your  master's  letters."  (A  countryman's  voice) 
"How  much  be  I  to  pay  ?"  u  Nothing,  you  fool ;  don't 
you  see  it's  frank' d  *'  '*  Oh,  here's  M.  P.  on  it ;  that 
means  mustn't  pay*  I  suppose."  (An  Irish  voice)  "  Is 
there  never  a  letter  for  me,  pray  ?"  *•  None  at  all,  either 
to-day  or  yesterday."  "  Upon  my  soul  that's  very  hard: 
do  you  think  there  will  be  e'er  a  one  to-morrow'  r"  "  I 
really  can't  say,  sir." 

So  they  pour  in  like  hail, 
Till  they're  off  with  the  mail, 
With  a  rattle  on,  dash,  dash  away. 

Some  folks  write  for  fun, 
And  others  to  dun, 
Some  blaming,  and  others  commending, 
Some  letters  on  love, 
And  others  to  move 
Soft  friends  their  hard  cash  to  be  lending  : 
Relations  dying, 
Selling,  buying, 
Losing,  thriving, 

Ships  arriving,  ^ 

Courting,  fighting, 
Wronging,  wrighting, 
Suits  at  law, 
Cash  to  draw, 
Dull  and  gay,  cross  and  kind, 
Such  a  medley  you'd  find 
Each  scroll  to  appear  on  inspectioD. 


MINSTREL.  53 

In  writer  and.  theme, 
That  our  office  would  seem 
Noah's  ark,  by  the  motley  collection. 

Spoken—"  Bless  me,  what  a  number  of  queer  names  : 
Mr.  Lion,  Mr.  Crow,  Mr.  Wolf,  Mr.  Talbot,  Miss  Part- 
ridge, Mr.  Herring,  Mr.  Woodcock,  and  Monsieur  Gre- 
nouille."  (A  French  voice.)  u  Ah  !  dat  is  for  me."— 
"  Sixpence,  if  you  please."  "  Ah,  sixpence  !  dat  is  too 
mooshl  I  will  not  give  you  more  as  treepence  happenny; 
if  you  will  not  let  me  have  him  for  dat,  you  may  keep 
him."  "  Your  letter,  Mr  O'Flannagen,  is  ninepence, 
more."  »  What  for?"  "It's  a  double  letter."  "A 
double  letter  !  Will  you  be  after  telling  me  that  ?  Sure 
a  double  letter  is  tivo  letters,  and  this  I  have  in  my  tist 
is  but  one.  O,  stop  a  bit ;  may  be  there's  another  in 
the  belly  of  it.  What's  this  ?  half  a  Bank  note  !  O,  you 
thieves,  I'll  have  your  Post  Office  taken  up  for  stealing 
the  other  half." 

So  they  pour  in  like  hail, 
Till  they're  off  with  the  mail, 
With  a  rattle  on,  dash,  dash  away. 


EXILE  OF  ERIN. 
There  came  to  the  beach  a  poor  Exile  of  Erin ; 

The  dew  on  his  thin  robe  hung  heavy  and  chill ; 
For  his  country  he  sigh'd,  when  at  twilight  repairing, 

To  wander  alone  by  the  wind-beaten  hill  : 
But  the  day-star  attracted  his  eye's  sad  devotion, 
Fof  it  rose  on  his  own  native  isle  of  the  ocean, 
Where  once  in  the  glow  of  his  youthful  emotion, 
He  sang  the  bold  anthem  of  Erin  go  Bragb  ! 


54  MINSTREL. 

Oh !  sad  is  my  fate,  said  the  heart-broken  stranger, 

The  wild  deer  and  wolf  to  a  covert  can  flee  ; 
But  I  have  no  refuge  from  famine  and  danger, 

A  home  and  a  country  remain  not  for  me  : 
Ah  I  never  again  in  the  green  shady  bowel's, 
Where  my  forefathers  liv'd,  shall  I  spend  the  sweet 

hours, 
Or  cover  my  harp  with  the  wild  woven  flowers, 
And  strike  to  the  numbers  of  Erin  go  Bragh  .' 

Oh.  where  is  the  eottae^  that  stood  by  tke  wild  wood  ? 

Sister?  and  sires,  did  y<-  weep  for  its  fa.i  ? 
Oh  where  is  my  mother  that  watclrd  oVr  my  childhood. 

And  where  is  th    bosom-friend,  dearer  than  all  ? 
Ah  !  my  sad  soul  long  abandon'd  by  pleasure. 
Oh  why  did  it  doat  on  a  fast  fading  tr  asure — 
Tears  like  the  rain  drops  may  fall  without  measure. 
But  rapture  and  beauty  they  cannot  read. 

Erin,  my  country,  though  sad  and  forsaken. 
In  dreanis  I  revisit  thy  sea-beaten  shore  ; 

But  alas  1  in  a  far  distant  land  I  aw  aken, 
And  sigh  for  the  friends  who  can  meet  me  no  more. 

Oh,  hard  *.ruel  fate,  wilt  thou  never  replace  me. 

In  a  mansion  of  peace,  where  no  peril  can  chase  me. 

Ah  !  never  again  shall  my  brothers  embrace  me — 

They  died  to  defend  me,  or  live  to  deplore. 

But  yet  all  its  sad  recollections  suppressing, 
One  dying  wish  my  lone  bosom  shall  draw  ; 

Erin,  an  Exile  bequeaths  thee  his  blessing, 
Land  of  my  forefathers,  Erin  go  Bragh 


MINSTREL.  W 

Buiied  and  cold,  when  my  heart  stills  its  motion, 
Green  be  thy  fields,  sweetest  isle  of  the  ocean, 
\  rid  thy  harp-striking  bards  sing  aloud  with  devotion, 
Erin  ma  vorneen,  Erin  go  Bragh  ! 

T.  Co 


OLD  TOWLER. 
Bright  chanticleer  proclaims  the  dawn, 

And  spangles  deck  the  thorn  ; 
The  lowing  herds  now  quit  the  lawn, 

The  lark  springs  from  the  corn. 
Dogs,  huntsmen,  round  the  window  throng, 
Fleet  Towlet  leads  the  cry  ; 

•  lie  burden  of  their  song— 
This  day  a  stag  must  die  ! 
With  a  hey,  ho,  chivey  ! 
Hark  forward,  hark  forward,  tantivy,  &a'. 

The  cordial  takes  its  merry  round, 

The  laugh  and  joke  prevail ; 
The  huntsman  blows  a  jovial  sound, 

The  clogs  snuff*  up  the  gale  ; 
The  upland  winds  they  sweep  along, 

O'er  fields,  through  brakes  they  fly  ; 
The  game  is  rous'd,  too  true  the  song— 

This  day  a  stag  must  die  ! 

"With  a  hey,  ho,  &c. 
Poor  stag!  the  dogs  thy  haunches  gore, 

The  tears  run  down  thy  face  : 
The  huntsman's  pleasure  is  no  morp. 

lib  joys  were  in  the  ehace  : 


MINSTREL. 

Alike  the  sportsman  of  the  town, 

The  virgin  game  in  view, 
Are  full  content  to  run  them  down, 

Then  they  in  turn  pursue. 

With-a  hey,  ho,  Sec.  O'Kecfe, 

SWEET  HARMONY. 
Yes,  when  thou  hear'st  the  gentle  breeze, 
That  waft's  thy  love  thro'  fav'ring  seas 

To  victory ; 
Then  let  thy  lute's  soft  note  prevail, 
And  murmur  with  the  sighing  gale, 

Sweet  harmony. 
But  when  the  wind  with  stormy  roar, 
Shall  bid  me  wish  my  love  on  shore, 

From  tempest  free  j 
His  peril  shall  my  lute  bewail, 
And  mingle  with  the  fearful  gale, 

Sad  harmony. 
But  should  the  blast  that  wakes  my  fear, 
On  swifter  wings  my  Edward  bear 

To  love  and  me  ; 
Oh !  then  my  lute  shall  once  more  prove, 
"When  murmuring  with  the  sighs  of  love, 

Sweet  harmony.  Kino-. 

AH !  SAY  SWEET  BIRD. 

Ah  !  say  sweet  bird,  how  long 
In  absence  thus  I'm  doom'd  to  pine ; 

All !  tell  me  in  thy  song, 
Shall  happiness  again  be  mint  J 


MINSTREL.  57 

l'hy  plaintive  notes  oft'  cause  a  sigh, 

They  oft'  awake  ray  soul  to  pain : 
Eut  sing  sweet  bird,  nor  e'er  deny 

To  chaunt  his  name  in  ev'ry  strain. 

Brookes. 

WARRIOR'S  GRAVE. 

Around  the  fair  isle  the  wild  birds  sing, 
And  plunge  in  the  lake  the  sparkling  wing  ; 
Above  the  fair  isle  the  wild  flowers  bloom 
To  deck  the  sod  of  the  warrior's  tomb. 
Cold  and  damp  is  the  warrior's  sleep, 
And  o'er  the  grave  the  wild  flowers  weep. 
As  we  pass'd  that  isle,  the  wind  blew  fair, 
No  mourner,  nor  hearse,  nor  shroud  was  there. 
But  we  view'd  the  sods  on  the  dead  that  lay, 
And  we  thought  of  the  crimson  battle  fray. 
Cold  and  damp  is  the  warrior's  grave, 
And  heavy  the  turf  that  hides  the  brave. 
As  the  light  of  their  souls  grew  dim  in  death, 
Xo  mother  watched  o'er  their  waning  breath; 
Like  the  stars  on  a  summer  night  they  fell, 
And  glory  proclaim'd  their  parting  knell. 
Cold  and  damp  is  the  warrior's  bed, 
But  glory  is  hovering  round  the  dead. 
To  soothe  their  slumbers  the  wild  birds  sing, 
To  honour  their  sods  the  fair  flowers  spring, 
And  many  a  day  and  many  a  year 
Shall  scatter  with  wreaths  their  lonely  bier. 
Cold  and  damp  is  the  warrior's  grave, 
And  heavy  the  turf  that  hides  the  brave. 


MINSTREL. 

ECHO  SONG. 

What  any  sounds,  hovers  sweetly  round- 
Some  spirit  seems  to  play ; 

How  did  that  note  on  aether  float, 
And  steal  my  soul  away. 

Still,  still,  I  hear  the  changeful  strain, 

It  mocks,  it  echoes,  it  echoes  me  again,  ike. 

Is't  fairy  ground,  are  spirits  round  ? 

Still,  still,  I  hear  the  changeful  strain, 

It  mocks,  it  echoes,  it  echoes  me  again,  Sec. 

DimoncL 

THROUGH  ICY  VALUES. 
Through  icy  vallies  on  my  sledge  I  glide, 
And  down  the  slippery  mountain's  side 
I  go  to  see  the  fair, 
I  go  to  see  the  fair ; 
Not  that  I  care  for  the  show, 
O  !  no,  O  !  no,  it  is  not  so, 
But  Irwin  will  be  there, 
But  Irwin  will  be  there. 

Then  fly,  then  fly,  my  reindeer, 

Swift  as  the  hunter's  dart. 
And  safely  go  thro'  the  deep  snow, 
To  meet  the  youth  of  Anna's  heart. 

Some  may  in  splendor  and  pomp  delight, 
I'd  spend  my  time  from  morn  till  night 
In  looking  at  my  love, 
In  looking  at  my  love  ; 


MINSTREL.  50 

Hours  fly  away  untold. 
Neither  hungt  r,  thirst,  nor  cold, 
With  Irwin  do  I  prove, 
"With  Irwin  do  I  prove. 

Then  fly,  then  fly,  &c.  Reynolds 

BEN  BACKSTAY. 

len  Backstay  was  our  boatswain,  a  very  merry  boy, 
'or  no  one  half  so  merrily  could  pipe  all  hands  ahoy; 
aid  when  it  chanc'd  his  summons  we  did'nt  well  at- 
tend, 
.'o  ltd  than  he  more  merrily  could  handle  a  rope's  end. 

Willi  a  chip  chow,  &c. 
Vhile  sailing  once,  our  captain,  who  was  a  jolly  dog1, 
>ne  day  he  gave  to  every  mess  a  double  share  of  grog  ; 
Mb  Backstay  he  got  tipsey,  all  to  his  heart's  content, 
knd  being  half-seas  over,  why  overboard  he  went. 
With  a  chip,  chow,  &c. 

i  shark  was  on  the  starboard,  sharks  don't  for  manners 

stand, 
lut  grapple  all  they  come  near,  just  like  your  sharks 

on  land; 
Ve  threw  out  Ben  some  tackling,  of  saving  him  in 

hopes, 
hit  the  shark  had  bit  his  head  off,  so  he  could  not  sec 

the  ropes. 

Willi  a  chip  chow,  &c. 
Vithout  a  head  his  ghost  appear'd,  all  on  the  briny  lake, 
Je  piped  all  hands  ahoy,  and  cried,  lads,  warning  by 

me  take  ; 


00  MINSTREL. 

By  drinking  grog  I  lost  my  life,  so  lest  my  fate  yoi 

meet, 
Why  never  mix  your  liquor,  lads,  but  ahvays  drink  i 

neat. 

With  a  a  chip  chow,  &c. 

FAREWELL  BESSY. 
Sweetest  love,  I'll  ne'er  forget  thee; 

Time  shall  only  teach  my  heart 
Fonder,  warmer  to  regret  thee, 
Lovely  gentle  as  thou  art ! 

Farewell  Bessy ! 
We  may  meet  again. 
Yes,  oh .'  yes,  again  we'll  meet  Love3 

And  repose  our  hearts  at  last ; 
Oh !  sure  'twill  then  be  sweet,  Love. 
Calm  to  think  on  sorrows  past .' 

Farewell  Bessy ! 
We  may  meet  again. 
Yet  I  feel  my  heart  is  breaking, 

When  I  think  I  stray  from  thee, 
Round  the  world  that  quiet  seeking, 
Which  I  fear  is  not  for  me .' 

Farewell  Bessy .' 
We  may  meet  again. 
Calm  to  peace  thy  lover's  bosom- 
Can  it,  dearest,  must  it  be, 
Thou  within  an  hour  wilt  lose  him, 
He  forever  loses  thee  I 

Farewell  Bessy  I 
Yet  oh!  not  forever.  T.Moore. 


J 


MINSTREL.  61 

NANNY,  WILT  THOU  GANG  WITH  ME. 
O  Nanny,  wilt  thou  gang  with  me, 

Nor  sigh  to  leave  the  flaunting  town  ? 
Can  silent  glens  have  charms  for  thee, 

The  lowly  cot  and  russet  gown  ? 
No  longer  dress'd  in  silken  sheen, 

No  longer  deck'd  with  jewels  rare, 
Say,  canst  thou  quit  each  courtly  scene, 

Where  thou  wert  fairest  of  the  fair  ? 
0  Nanny  !  when  thou'rt  far  away, 

Wilt  thou  not  cast  a  wish  behind  ? 
Say,  canst  thou  face  the  parching  ray, 

Nor  shrink  before  the  wintry  wind  ? 
0,  can  that  soft  and  gentle  mien 

Extremes  of  hardship  learn  to  bear, 
Nor  sad  regret  each  courtly  scene, 

Where  thou  wert  fairest  of  the  fair  ? 

J  Nanny !  canst  thou  love  so  true 

Through  perils  keen  with  me  to  go, 
Or,  when  thy  swain  mishap  shall  rue, 

To  share  with  him  the  pang  of  we  ? 
Say,  should  disease  or  pain  befall, 

Wilt  thou  assume  the  nurse's  care, 
\"or  wistful  those  gay  scenes  recall 

Where  thou  wert  fairest  of  the  fair  ? 
Vnd  when,  at  last,  thy  love  shall  die, 

Wilt  thou  receive  his  parting  breath  ? 
Wilt  thou  repress  each  struggling  sigh, 

And  cheer  with  smiles  the  bed  of  death  ? 


MINSTREL. 

And  wilt  thou  o'er  his  breathless  clay 
Strew  flowers,  and  drop  the  tender  tear  ; 

Nor  then  regret  those  scenes  so  gay, 
"Where  thou  wert  fairest  of  the  fair  ?  Percy. 

COME,  REST  IN  THIS  BOSOM. 
Air—"  Lough  Shecling.'^ 
Come,  rest  in  this  bosom,  my  own  stricken  deer  I 
Though  the  herd  have  fled  from  thee,  thy  home  is  stili 

here ; 
Here  still  is  the  smile  that  no  cloud  can  o'ercast, 
And  the  heart  and  the  hand  all  thy  own  to  the  last ! 

Oh  I  what  was  love  made  for,  if  'tis  not  the  same 
Thro' joy  and  thro*  torments,  thro'  glory  and  shame  ? 
I  knew  not,  I  ask'd  not,  if  guilt's  in  that  heart, 
I  but  know  that  I  love  thee,  whatever  thou  art ! 

Thou  hast  call'd  me  thy  angel,  in  moments  of  bliss,—  ] 
Still  thy  angel  I'll  be,  'mid  the  horrors  of  this,— 
Thro'  the  furnace,  unshrinking,  thy  steps  to  pursue, 
And  shield  thee,  and  save  thee,  er  perish  there  too  ! 

T.Moore. 


PADDY  THE  PIPER. 
When  I  was  a  boy  in  my  father's  mud  edifice, 

Tender  and  bare  as  a  pig  in  a  stye, 
Out  at  the  door  as  I  look'd  with  a  steady  phiz, 

"Who  but  Pat  Murphy  the  piper  came  by  ? 
Says  Paddy,  but  few  play  tins  music,  can  you  play  : 

Says  I,  I  can't  tell,  for  I  never  did  try : 


IRKL.  63 

lie  lolvl  me  that  he  Lad  a  charm, 

To  make  the  pipes  prettily  speak, 
Finn  Ik-  squeez'd  a  bag  under  his  arm, 

And  sweetly  they  vtupa  squeak  ' 
With  a  fara  lata  loo,  cch  !  hone,  how  he  handl'd  tlie 

drone, 
And  then  such  sweet  music  he  blew,  'twould  have  melt- 
td  the  heart  of  a  stone. 

lour  pipes,  says  I,  so  sweetly  come  over  me, 

Naked  1*11  wander  wherever  it  blows, 
Vnd  if  my  father  should  try  to  recover  me, 

Sure  it  won't  be  by  describing  my  clothes, 
The  music  I  hear  now,  takts  hold  of  my  ear  now, 

And  leads  me  all  over  the  world  by  the  nose, 
>o  I  followed  his  bag-pipes  so  sweet, 

And  sung,  as  I  leap'd  like  a  frog, 

dieu  to  my  family  seat 

So  pleasantly  plac'd  in  a  bog  ; 

.nd  then  such  sweet  music  he  blew,  'twould  hxive  melt- 
ed the  heart  of  a  stone. 
With  a  fara  lara,  &c. 

ull  five  years  I  follow'd  him,  nothing  could  'sunder  us, 
'Till  he  one  morning  had  taken  a  sup, 
nd  slipp'd  from  a  bridge  into  a  river  just  under  us, 
Souse  to  the  bottom  just  like  a  blind  pup  ! 
roar'd  out  and  baw  I'd  out,  and  lustily  call'd  out, 
O  Faddy,  my  friend,  don't  you  rut  an  to  come  up  ? 
e  was  dt  ad  as  a  nail  in  the  door, 
1  v  was  laid  en  a  shelf, 


64  MINSTREL. 

So  I  took  up  his  pipes  on  the  shore, 

And  now  I've  set  up  for  myself, 
With  my  fara  lara,  to  be  sure  I  have  not  got  the  knack 
To  play  fara  lara  loo,  &c. 

HEIGHO!    SAYS  THIMBLE. 
Thimble's  scolding  wife  lay  dead, 

Heigho !  says  Thimble, 
My  dearest  duck's  defunct  in  bed  ; 
Death  has  cabbaged  her— oh,  she's  fled  ! 

With  her  roiey  poley, 

Gammon  and  spinage, 

Heigho !  says  Thimble. 
Thimble  buried  his  wife  that  night ; 

Heigho .'  says  Thimble, 
I  grieve  to  sew  up  my  heart's  delight 
With  her  diamond  ring  on  her  finger  tight ; 

And  her  roley  poley,  &c. 

To  law  off  her  finger,  and  steal  the  ring, 

Soon  came  the  sexton  ; 
She  sat  up  on  end  and  she  gave  him  a  fling, 
Crying  Damme,  you  dog,  you  steal  no  such  thing  I 

With  your  roley  poley,  &c. 

And  off  ran  the  sexton. 

She  stalk'd  to  her  home,  and  she  made  a  din, 

Heigho !  cried  Thimble, 
Then  popp'd  out  his  head,  and  said  with  a  grin, 
You  are  dead,  dearest  duck,  and  I  can't  let  you  in. 

With  your  roley  poley,  &c. 

O  heigh  i  cried  Thimble. 


MINSTREL.  65 

THE  YOUNG  MAY  MOON. 
Air—"  The  Dandy  0  /" 
ung  May  moon  is  beaming,  love. 
The  glow-worm's  lamp  is  gleaming,  love- 
How  sweet  to  rove 
Through  Morna's  grove, 
While  the  drowsy  world  is  dreaming,  love ! 
Then  awake !  the  heaven's  look  bright,  my  dear  ! 
Tis  ntver  too  late  for  delight,  my  dear! 
And  the  best  of  all  ways, 
To  lengthen  our  <1. 
lito  steal  a  few  hours  from  the  night,  my  dear  ' 

Now  all  the  world  is  sleeping,  love  .' 

But  the  sage,  his  star-watch  keeping*  low. 

And  I,  whose  star, 

Ifon  glorious  far. 
Is  the  eye  from  that  easement  peeping,  love. 
Then  awake,  till  the  rise  of  the  sun,  my  dear! 
The  sage's  glass  we'll  shun, my  dear; 

Or,  in  watching  the  flight 

Of  bodies  of  light, 
He  might  happen  to  take  thee  for  one,  my  dear ! 

T.  Moore. 

DEEP  IN  MY  BREAST. 
Deep  in  my  breast  the  rosy  tyrant  dwells, 

Piercing  with  cruel  aim  each  poison 'd  dart  ; 
And  if  my  eye  my  soul's  sad  torment  tells, 
It  speaks  the  secret  anguish  of  my  heart. 
E 


MINSTREL. 

Rest  silently,  flau'rer  ;  nor  let  thy  pain  rny  love  betrat , 
Hope  shall  hush  thee  in  my  breast,  and  chase  each 
anxious  sigh  away. 

THE  DASHING  WHITE  SERGEANT. 

Sung  by  Miss  Kelly. 
If  I  had  a  beau  for  a  soldier  who'd  go, 
Do  you  think  I'd  say,  no  ?— no,  no,  not  I ! 
When  his  red  coat  I  saw,  not  a  sigh  would  I  draw, 
But  I'd  give  him  u  eelat"  for  his  bravery  I 
If  an  army  of  Amazons  e'er  came  in  play, 
Vs  a  dashing  White  Sergeant,  I'd  march  away ! 
March  away  I  march  away  '.  march  !  march  away  ' 

When  my  soldier  was  gone,  d'ye  think  I'd  take  on. 
Sit  moping  forlorn  ?  no,  no,  no — not  I ! 
His  fame  my  concern,  how  my  besom  would  burn. 
VVaen  I  saw  him  return,  crown' d  with  victory ! 
If  an  army  of  Amazons,  fee. 

TOM  BOWLING. 
Here  a  sheer  hulk  lies  poor  Tom  Bowling 

The  darling  of  our  crew  ; 
No  more  he'll  hear  the  tempest  howling. 

For  death  has  broach'd  him  too. 
His  form  was  of  the  manliest  beauty, 

His  heart  was  kind  and  soft ; 
Faithful  below  he  did  his  duty, 

And  now  he's,  gone  aloft. 
Tom  never  from  his  word  departed. 

His  virtues  were  so  rare  ; 


MINSTREL. 

ii»-  input's  were  many  and  true-hem  mm*. 

I  lis  Poll  was  kind  and  fVdr  ; 
\ntl  tin  n  he'd  sing  so  blithe  and  jolly, 

Ah,  many's  the  time  and  oft! 
Bu1  mini)  is  turn'd  to  melancholy, 

Poor  Tom  is  gone  aloft. 

J   i  shall  poor  Tom  find  pleasant  weather, 

When  lv  \\  ho  all  commands 
Shall  give,  to  call  life's  crew  together, 

»rd  to  pipe  all  hands. 
I  hill  <1  ath,  who  kiiigs  and  tiirs  despatches, 

In  rain  Tom's  life  has  doff'd  ; 
For,  though  his  body's  under  hatches, 

I  lis  soul  has  gone  aloft*  Dibdti> 


THE  VOICE  OF  HER  I  LOVE. 

How  sweet,  at  close  of  silent  eve, 
The  harp's  responsive  sound ! 

flow  sweet  the  vows  that  ne'er  deceive, 
And  deeds  by  virtue  crown'd! 

How  tweet  to  sit  beneath  a  tree, 
In  some  delightful  grove  ! 

But,  oh  !  more  soft,  more  sweet  to  me 
The  voice  of  her  I  love  ! 

V^lii  dj  'er  she  joins  the  village  train, 

To  hail  the  new-born  day, 
Mellifluous  notes  compose  each  strain. 

"Which  zephyrs  waft  away. 


MIXSTREl.. 

The  frown*  of  fj»te  I'd  calmly  tear, 
In  humble  sphere  to  move, 

Content  and  bkss'd  whene'er  I  hear 
The  voice  of  her  I  love. 


THE  DUSKY  NIGHT. 
The  dusky  night  rides  down  the  skA , 

And  ushers  in  the  mom  ; 
The  hounds  all  join  the  glorious  en  . 
The  huntsman  winds  his  horn, 
And  a  hunting  we  will  go, 
A  hunting  we  will  go, 
A  hunting  we  will  go, 
A  hunting  we  will  go. 

The  wife  around  her  husband  throws 
Her  arms  to  make  him  stay ; 

My  dear,  it  rains,  it  hails,  it  blows  ; 
You  cannot  hunt  to  day. 

Yet  a  hunting  we  will  go,  &c. 

Sly  Reynard  now  like  lightning  flie^ 

And  sweeps  across  the  vale  ; 
But  when  the  hounds  too  near  he  spies, 

He  drops  his  bushy  tail. 
Then  a  hunting  we  will  go,  8cc. 
Fond  Echo  seems  to  like  the  sport, 

And  joins  the  jovial  cry; 
The  woods,  the  hills,  the  sound  retort. 

And  music  fills  the  sky. 
When  a  hunting  we  will  gc.  Beet 


.MINSTREL. 

\t  last  his  strength  to  faintness  worn, 

Poor  Reynard  ceases  flight; 
I  li<  n  hungry,  homeward  we  return, 

lu  feast  away  the  night. 
And  a  drinking  we  will  go.  &i-. 

>\  ial  hunters  in  the  morn, 
Pn  pare  then  for  the  chase  ; 
Rise  at  the  sounding  of  the  horn. 
tnd  health  with  sport  embrace. 
When  a  hunting  we  will  go,  Sec, 

THE  WOODPECKER. 

1  km  w  by  the  smoke  that  so  gracefully  curl'd 

Abo\  c  the  green  elms,  that  a  cottage  was  near  ; 
And  1  said, 4t  If  there's  peace  to  be  found  in  the  world 

A  heart  that  was  humble  might  hope  for  it  here." 
Twas  noo.  .  and  on  flowers  that  languished  around 

In  silence  reposM  the  voluptuous  bee  ; 
Jv.  n     leaf  was  at  rest,  and  I  heard  not  a  sound, 

But  the  woodpecker  tapping  the  hollow  beech  tree. 

And  hire,  in  this  lone  little  wood,  I  exclaim'd, 

With  a  maid  who  was  lovely  to  soul  and  to  eye, 
Who  would  blush  when  I  prais'd  her,  and  weep  is  I 
blanrd, 

How  bless'd  could  I  live,  and  how  calm  could  I  die. 
By  the  shade  of  yon  sumach,  whose  red  berry  dips 

In  the  gush  of  the  fountain,  how  sweet  to  recline  ! 
And  to  know  that  I  sigh'd  upon  innocent  lips, 

Which  ne'er  had  been  sigh'd  on  by  any  but  mine. 

T.Moore. 


MINSTREL. 


DULCE  DOMUM. 


Deep  in  a  vale  a  cottage  stood, 

Oft  sought  by  travellers  weary, 
And  oft  it  prov'd  the  bless 'd  abode 

Of  Edward  and  of  Mary. 
For  her  he'd  chase  the  mountain  goat, 

O'er  Alps  and  Glaciers  bounding  ; 
For  her  the  chamois  he  would  shoot, 

Dark  horrors  all  surrounding  ; 
But  evening  come,  he  sought  his  home, 

While  anxious,  lovely  woman, 
She  hail'd  the  sight,  and  every  night, 
The  cottage  rung, 
As  they  sung, 
Oh  I  Dulce,  dulce  Domum  ! 

But  soon,  alas  .'  this  scene  of  bliss 

Was  changed  to  prospects  dreary  ; 
For  war  and  honour  rous'd  each  Swiss, 

And  Edward  left  his  Mary. 
To  bold  St.  Gothard's  height  he  rush'd, 

'Gainst  Gallia's  force  contending, 
And,  by  unequal  numbers  crush'd, 

He  died  his  land  defending. 
The  evening  comes,  he  sought  not  home, 

Whilst  she  (distracted  woman,) 
( rrown  wiid  with  dread,  now  seeks  him  dead, 
And  hears  the  knell, 
That  bids  farewell 
To  Dulce,  dulce  Domum.  Reynold?. 


MINSTREL. 

WHILE  GAZING  ON  THE  MOON'S  LIGHT 

Ail' — *'  Oona^h." 
While  gazing  on  the  moon's  light, 

A  moment  from  her  smile  I  turn'd 
1*0  look  at  orbs  that,  more  bright, 
In  lone  and  distant  glory  burn'd. 
But  too  far 
Each  proud  star, 
For  me  to  feel  its  warming  flame, 
Much  more  dear 
That  mild  sphere, 
Which  near  our  planet  smiling  camr 
Thus  Mary  dear,  be  thou  mine  own, 

While  brighter  eyes  unheeded  play, 
I'll  love  those  moonlight  looks  alone, 
Which  bless  my  home,  and  guide  my  waj 

The  day  had  sunk  in  dim  showers, 

But  midnight  now.  w  ith  lustre  meek, 
Illumin'd  all  the  pale  flowers, 
Like  hope  that  lights  a  mourner's  cheek. 
I  said,  (while 
The  moon's  smile 
Play'd  o'er  the  stream  in  dimpling  bliss.. 
•'  T he  moon  looks, 
On  many  brooks, 
The  brook  can  see  no  moon  but  this ;' 
And  thus  I  thought  our  fortunes  run, 

For  many  a  lover  looks  to  thee, 
While  oh  !  I  feel  but  one, 
One  Mary  in  the  world  for  me.  T.  Moon 


2  MINSTREL. 

LOVE'S  YOUNG  DREAM. 
Oh  !  the  days  are  gone  when  beauty  bright 

My  heart's  chain  wove  ; 
When  my  dream  of  life,  from  morn  till  night 

Was  Sove,  still  love  J 

New  hope  may  bloom, 

And  days  may  come, 

Of  milder,  calmer  beam  ; 

But  there's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life, 

As  love's  young  dream  ! 
Oh  .'  there's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life, 

As  love's  young  dream  ! 
Though  the  bard  to  purer  flame  may  soar, 

V'hrn  wild  youth's  past: 
Though  he  win  the  wise,  who  frown "d  beffcr 

To  smile  at  last : 

He'll  never  meet 

A  joy  so  sweet 

In  all  his  noon  of  fame, 
\s  when  first  he  sung  to  woman's  ear 

His  soul  felt  dame, 
And,  at  every  close,  she  blush'd  to  hear 

The  one  lov'd  name  ! 

Oh  !  that  hallow'd  form  is  ne'er  forgot, 

Which  first  love  trae'd  ; 
Still  it  lingering  haunts  the  greenest  spot . 
On  memory's  waste  I 
'Tw  as  odour  fled 
\a  soon  as  shed. 


MINSTREL.  : 

l'was  morning's  winded  dream  ! 

I  was  a  lipfht  that  D(  Vr  can  shine  again, 

On  lift  's  dull  stream  ! 

< )h  .'  'twas  lipfht  that  reYr  can  shine  again 

On  life's  duJl  stream. 

THE  COTTAGER'S  DAUGHTER. 
Down  in  the  valley  my  father  dwells, 

S<  e,  yonder,  on  brother  he's  leaning  ; 
All  that  our  garden  produces  he  sells, 

And  I  help  a  little  by  gleaning: 
I  must  away,  by  break  of  day. 

My  bucket  to  fill  from  the  water  ; 
^id  earn  all  I  can  for  my  father,  poor  man, 

For  I  am  his  only  daughter. 

Ladies  have  offered  me  places  three, 

And  bid  me  choose  which  I  had  rather, 
But  this  was  the  answer  they  got  from  me, 

Dear  ma'am,  only  think  of  my  father ; 
What  would  he  do,  were  Jane  with  you, 

Forgetting  the  duty  he  taught  her, 
O  !  how  would  he  griev< .  if  the  cot  I  should  leave , 

For  I  am  his  only  daughter. 
William,  who  bought,  with  the  field  below, 

The  three  pretty  cows  of  old  Mary, 
Shortly  w  ill  want,  (for  he  told  me  so.) 

A  w  ift  to  look  after  the  dairv  ; 
He  lives  so  near  my  father  dear, 

Its  only  just  over  the  water  ; 
Should  he  ask  me  go,  sure  I  cannot  say  no, 

For  I  am  his  only  daughter. 


74  MINSTREL. 

IS  THERE  A  HEART  THAT  NEVER  LOV'D 

Is  there  a  heart  that  never  lov'd, 
Or  felt  soft  woman's  sigh  ; 

Is  there  a  man  can  mark  unmov'd, 
Dear  woman's  tearful  eye  '. 

Oh  !  hear  him  to  some  distant  shore, 
Or  solitary  cell, 

Where  nought  but  savage  monsters  roar- 
Where  love  ne'er  deigned  to  dwell. 

For  there's  a  charm  in  woman's  eye, 

A  language  in  her  tear  ; 
A  spell  in  ever)7  sacred  sigh, 

To  man,  to  virtue  dear  ; 
And  he  who  can  resist  her  smiles, 

With  brutes  alone  should  live, 
Nor  taste  that  joy  which  care  beguiles* 

That  joy  her  virtues  give. 

NOTHING  AT  ALL. 
In  Derry  down  dale  when  I  wanted  a  mate, 
I  went  with  my  daddy,  a  courting  of  Kate  ; 
With  my  nosegay  so  fine,  in  my  holy-day  clothes, 
My  hands  in  my  pockets  a  courting  I  goes. 
The  weather  was  cold,  and  my  boson  w as  hot, 
My  heart  in  a  gallop — my  mare  in  a  trot- 
Now  I  was  so  bashful,  so  loving  withal. 
My  tongue  stuck  to  my  mouth,  and  I  said 

Nothing  at  alt. 


MINSTREL.  7$ 

•.»  h.  ii  1'i-anictoth" house,  I  look'd  bashful  and  grum, 
l 'h«  knocker  I  held  twfartnvy  fingei  and  thumb, 

i    *  1 1  tli-  knocker,  Eat    ihow'd  her  chin, 
She  chuckled  and  buckled,  I  bow'd  and  went  in. 
Now  I  -a as  so  l>ashful  as  bashful  couid  b  , 
Ami  Kitty,  poor  soul,  was  as  bashful  as  me  ; 
S<>  I  laughM,  and  I  grinn'd,  and  I  let  my  hat  fall, 
•cratched  my  head,  and  said 

Nothing  at  all. 

If  bashful  was  I,  she  more  bashful  the  maid, 
Sh«  rimper'd  and  ogh'd,  with  her  apron  strings  play'd; 
The  old  folks  impath  nt  to  have  the  thiog  done, 
fcgrei  d  th:  t  nn  Kiti\  and  I  should bi  one. 
So,  th  n  \\t  young-  ones  both  nodded  consent, 
l  li-  n  hand  in  hand  to  gel  married  we  went, 
Wb  »i  we  aiur*    red  the  parson,  in  voices  so  small, 
rce  could  bare  heard  u->,  say 

Nothing  at  all. 

But  mark  what  a  change  in  the  course  of  a  week, 
My  Kate  ltft  off  blushing,  I  boldly  could  speak— 
Could  phi\  with  my  Kitty,  and  laugh  at  a  jest, 
Ind  Kate  could  talk,  ay  too,  as  well  as  the  best. 
And  ta'k'd  of  past  follies,  we  oft  have  declar'd 
To  encourage  young  folks,  who  at  wedlock  arescai'd. 
For  if  to  your  aid  some  assurance  you  call, 
You  may  kiss  and  get  married,  and  it's 

Nothing  at  all. 

HERE  AWA,  THERE  AWA. 
*  a,  there  awa,  here  awa  Willie  ; 
Here  awa,  there  awa,  haud  awa  hame. 


76  MINSTREL. 

Lang  hae  I  sought  thee,  dear  hae  I  bought  thee. 
Now  I  hae  gotten  my  Willie  again. 

Through  the  lang  muir  I  hae  follow'd  my  Willie, 
Through  the  lang  muir  I  hae  follow'd  him  hame  ; 

Whate'er  betide  us,  nought  shall  divide  us  ; 
Love  now  rewards  a'  my  sorrow  and  pain. 

Here  awa,  there  awa.  here  awa,  Willie, 
Here  awa  there  awa,  haud  awa  hame  ; 

Come,  love,  believe  me,  naething  can  grieve  me  : 
Ilka  thing  pleases  when  Willie's  at  hame. 

Gin  ye  meet  my  love,  kiss  her  and  clap  her, 
And  gin  ye  meet  my  love,  dinna  think  shame : 

f^in  ye  meet  my  love,  kiss  her  and  clap  her, 
And  show  her  the  way  to  haud  awa  hame. 

THE  MAIL  COACH. 
Come  listen  to  my  story, 
Now  seated  in  my  glory. 

We  make  no  longer  stay  ; 
A  bottle  of  good  sherry 
Has  made  us  all  quite  merry, 

Let  Momus  rule  the  day— 
We  hearty  all  and  well  are, 
Drive  to  the  White  Horse  Cellar. 

Get  a  snack  before  we  go — 
Bring  me  a  leg  of  mutton, 
I'm  as  hungry  as  a  glutton, 

Some  gravy  soup— hallo  I 


MINSTREL.  77 

Spoken— \Vh> ,  waiter— coming,  sir—  Make  haste,  do; 

I  shall  lose  my  place  .'—Coming  in  a  moment,  sir,  just 
take  cart-  of  No.  1.  Ten  minutes  good  yet,  sir.  1  liope 
your  honor  will  remember  honest  Dick  the  hostler.— 
Remember!  damme,  I  shall  never  forget  you.— Why, 

II  aiter,  and  be  damn'd  to  you,  is  my  soup  ready  ?  Just 
put  on  the  gridiron — Joseph,  vill  you  let  me  have  some 
table  beer  !— .lust  put  into  the  pot,  ma'am.— Waiter.— 
Sir.— A iv  my  steaks  ready  ?— No,  Sir  ;  but  your  chops 
aiv.  A  ny  passengera  for  the  Glo'ster  Mail  ?  Yes,  young 
man,  I'm  going  by  the  Glo'ster  Mail,  the-  moment  I 
can  get  my  change.— Can't  Avait  for  your  change  ;  if 
I'm  not  at  Lombard  street  by  seven  o'clock  to  receive 
the  bags,  I  shall  get  pull'd  over  the  coals.  (Horn.) 

Away,  away,  we  rattle, 
Such  crow  ds  of  men  and  cattle ; 
Crack  whip,  they  dash  away, 
Tin -j  dash  away,  they  dash  away. 

What  a  cavalcade  of  coaches 
On  every  side  approaches, 

What  work  for  man  and  beast ! 
To  have  a  little  drop,  sir, 
We  first  of  all  must  stop,  sir, 

Then  afterwards  make  haste  ; 
I  mount— the  whip  I  crack  now, 
All  bustle— what  a  pack  now 

On  every  side  approach  ; 
Now  making  sad  grimaces, 
All  for  the  want  of  places, 

They  cry— I've  lost  the  coach. 
Spoken— How 's  this  ?  I'm  sure  my  name  was  book'd. 
'ery  likely  ma'm,  but  not  here.— Mr.  Coachman,  any 
»om for  two  females  !— None  at  all  lor  females ;  this  is 


78  MINSTREL. 

a  male  coach.  (Laugh.)    Tie  a  handk erchief  mmul 
vour  neck  Billv.    Yes.  papa  ;  give  my  duty  to  gnjno. 
Lama*    I  will,  mv  lov  ,     Good  bye.  papa.    Good  b  e, 
myk>ve.    All  right  behind,  cut  em  along.    (Horn.) 
Away,  aw  ay,  we  rattle,  &c. 

Four  in  hand  from  Picadilly, 
Now  seated  in  the  dilly, 

Off  we  scamper  all ; 
What  merry  wags  and  railers, 
"What  jolly  dogs  and  sailors, 

Begun  to  sing  and  bawl. 
From  every  place  we  start  now. 
Some  company  depart  now, 

And  others  come  no  doubt ; 
For  plenty-  there's  of  room  now, 
And  any  one  may  come  now, 

Four  insides  and  one  out. 

Spoken-l  sav.  you  lobster  at  the  helm,  have  you  got 
any  room  aboard  ?— Plenty  of  room,  my  jolly  masters ; 
there's  only  four  inside  and  a  fat  common-council  man. 
You've  put  my  trunk  into  the  wrong  coach— Never 
mind  ma'am  ;  'we  shall  soon  overtake  it.  Pray  madam, 
an't  you  sitting  on  my  Welsh  wig  '.  Hold  your  tongue, 
you  noisy  brute  you  ;  you've  awoke  me  out  of  a  com- 
fort^blt  nap.  Keep  the  windows  up  ;  IVe  caught  a 
cold  and  got  a  stiff  neck.  Now,  if  you  please  sir.  well 
settle  legs.  Mit  all  my  shoul.  madam.  Hallo  .  misses, 
you  cant  have  that  there  parrot  inside  :  one  tongue  s 
enough  for  a  female.  Take  care  of  your  heads  \}Yhip) 
and  hit  'em  twice  in  a  place.  (Horn.) 
Away,  away,  we  rattle,  Sec. 


MINSTREL.  79 

DOWN  THE  BURN  DAVIE. 

U  down  tin  burn  they  took  their  way, 

And  through  the  flowery  dale  ; 
His  cheek  to  hers  he  aft  did  lay, 

And  love  was  aye  the  tale. 
With  "  Mary,  when  shall  we  return, 

Sic  pleasures  to  it  new  J" 
<tuoth  Mary.  "  Love,  I  like  the  burn, 

And  ay  shall  follow  you."  Bums, 

SANDY  AND  JENNY, 
ome,  come,  bonny  lassie,  cried  Sandy,  awa', 

ither  is  spinning,  and  ather's  afa', 
The  folks  are  at  work,  and  the  bairns  are  at  play, 
And  ire  «  ill  be  married,  dear  Jenny,  to-day. 
•Stay,  stay,  bonny  laddie,  then  cried  I  with  speed, 
I  winna.  I  inunna,  go  with  you  bid  <  d  ; 

.  should  I  do  so,  what  would  the  folks  say  ? 
lo  w  e  i anna  marry,  dear  Sandy,  to-day. 

.  and  mind  what  you  do, 
or  Peggy  and  Patty  I  gave  up  f  r  yen  ; 

.:  full  twelve-month  we've  '.nfled  away, 
Ind  one  or  the  otlu  r  I'll  many  to-day. 

ie,  fie.  lxniny  laddie,  then  cried  I  again, 

you  kiss'd  t'other  day    •   th   plain: 
;  aem  ribbon  dots  Patty  Ji-»play, 
nd  we  canna  marry,  dear  Sandy,  to-day. 


80  MINSTREL. 

Oh,  then,  a  good-bye,  bonny  lassie,  cried  he, 
For  Peggy  and  Patty  are  waiting  for  me  ; 
The  kirk  is  hard  bye,  and  the  bells  call  away, 
And  Peggy  or  Patty  I'll  marry  to-day. 

Stay,  stay,  bonny  laddie,  cried  I  with  a  smile. 
For  know  t  was  jesting,  indeed,  all  the  while ; 
Let  Peggy  go  spin,  and  send  Patty  away, 
And  we  will  be  married,  dear  Sandy,  to-day. 

A  LOVING  LOOK  FROM  SALLY. 
How  happy  is  the  peasant's  lot, 

Serene  Ins  moments  flow, 
Shelter'd  in  his  humble  cot, 

He  hears  the  tempest  blow. 
A  frugal  meal,  a  faithful  wife, 

And  children  dear  possessing, 
He  keeps  a  steady  course  thro'  life, 

Nor  asks  a  greater  bltssing. 
Daily  at  the  peep  of  dawn, 

His  labour  bids  him  rise ; 
Whistling  o'er  the  dewy  lawn, 

With  plodding  step  he  hies. 
Contentment  makes  his  travel  light, 

O'er  mountain  or  thro'  valley, 
No  matter,  so  he  meets  at  night 

A  loving  look  from  Sally.  Cumberland. 

LASH'D  TO  THE  HELM. 
In  storms,  when  clouds  obscure  the  sky, 
And  thunders  roll,  and  lightnings  fly. 


MINSTREL. 

In  mid.it  of  all  these  dire  aim 
I  think, my  Sully  on  thy  charmi; 
The  troubled  main, 
The  wind  and  rain, 
My  ardent  passion  prore  ; 
Lash'd  to  the  helm, 
Should  seas  o'erwhelm, 
I'd  think  on  thee,  my  lore. 

When  rocks  appear  on  every  «inV, 
And  art  is  vain  the  ship  to  guide  ; 
In  varied  shapes  when  d<  ath  appeal*, 
The  thought  of  thee  my  bosom  cfo     » 

The  troubled  main, 

The  wind  and  rain, 
My  ardent  passion  prove ; 

Lash'd  to  the  helm, 

Should  seas  o'erwhelm, 
I'd  think  on  thee,  my  love. 

But  should  the  gracious  powers  be  kind. 
Dispel  the  gloom,  and  still  the  wind, 
And  waft  me  to  thy  arms  once  more, 
Safe  to  my  long-lost  native  shoie. 
No  more  the  main 
I'd  tempt  again, 
Lul  tender  joys  improve  ; 
r  then  with  thee 
Should  happy  be, 
A-nd  think  on  nought  but  lore. 
F 


«2  MINSTREL 

ADAMS  AND  LIBERTY. 
Tune— Anacreon  in  Heaven. 
Ye  sons  of  Columbia,  who  bravely  have  fought 

For  those  rights,  which  unstain'd  from  your  sires  had 
descended, 
May  you  long  taste  the  blessings  your  valour  has  bought, 
And  youi'  sons  reap  the  soil  which  your  fathers  de— 

:  ^n  of  mild  Peace, 
/ur  nation  increase, 
With  the  glory  of  Rome  and  the  wisdom  of  Greece. 
And  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bean  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its 
waves. 

In  a  clime,  whose  rich  vales  feed  the  marts  of  the 
world, 
w hose  shores  are  unshaken  by  Europe's  commotion. 
The  trident  of  Commerce  should  never  be  hurl'd, 
To  incense  the  legitimate  powers  of  the  ocean. 
But  should  pirates  invade, 
Though  in  thunder  array'd, 
Let  your  cannon  declare  the  free  charter  of  trade, 
the  sons,  &c. 

The  fame  of  our  arms,  of  our  laus  the  mild  sway, 

Had  justly  enobled  our  nation  in  story, 
Till  the  dark  clouds  of  faction  obscur'd  our  young  day, 
d  enveloped  the  sun  of  American  glory. 
But  let  tra^' 
Vi  ho  their  country  have  sold, 


MINSTREL*  8* 

And  barter'd  their  C*od  for  his  image  in  gold, 
That  ne'er  will  the  sons,  &.C 

While  France  her  huge  limbs  bathes  recumbent  io 
blood, 
And  Society's  base  threats  with  wide  desolution  -r 
May  Peace  like  the  dove,  whoreturn'd  from  the  floodr 
Find  an  ark  of  abode  in  our  mild  constitution. 
But  though  peace  is  our  aim, 
Yet  the  boon  we  disclaim. 
If  bought  by  our  sov'reignty,  Justice  or  Fame, 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons,  &c. 

'Tis  the  five  of  "the  flint,  each  American  warms  ; 

Let  Home's  haughty  victors  beware  of  collision: 
Lei  them  bring  all  the  vassals  of  Europe  inarms, 
We'iv  a  world  by  ourselves,  and  disdain  a  division- 
While  with  patriot  pride, 
To  our  laws  we're  allied, 
No  fbe  can  subdue  us,  no  faction  divide. 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons,  &c. 

Our  mountains  are  crown'd  with  imperial  oak, 

Whose  roots,  like  our  liberties,  ages  have  nourished, 
But  long  ere  our  nation  submits  to  the  yoke, 
Not  a  tree  shall  be  left  on  the  field  where  it  rlourish'd, 
Should  invasion  impend, 
Every  grove  would  descend, 
From  the  hill-tops  they  shaded,  our  shores  to  defend. 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons,  &c. 

Let  our  patriots  destroy  Anarch's  pestilent  worm  ; 
Lt  st  our  Liberty's  growth  should  be  checked  by  cor- 
rosion 


£4  MINSTREL. 

Then  let  clouds  thicken  round  us,  we  heed  not  the 
storm ; 
Our  realm  fears  no  shock,  but  the  earth's  own  explo- 
sion. 

Foes  assail  us  in  vain, 
Though  their  Meets  bridge  the  main, 
For  our  alters  and  laws  with  our  tires  we'll  maintain. 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons,  &c. 

Should  the  tempest  of  war  overshadow  our  land, 

Its  bolts  could  ne'er  rend  freedom's  temple  asunder; 
Forunmov'd  at  its  portal  would  Washington  stand, 
And  repulse  n  ith  his  breast  the  assaults  of  the  thun- 
der! 
His  sword,  from  the  sleep 
Of  its  scabbard  would  leap, 
And  conduct,  with  its  point,  ev'ry  flash  to  the  deep. 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons,  ccc. 

Let  fame  to  the  world  sound  America's  voice  ; 
No  intrigues  can  her  sons  from  their  government 
sever ; 
Her  Pride  are  her  Statesmen— their  Larvs  are  her 
choice, 
And  shall  flourish  till  Liberty  slumbers  for  ever. 
Then  unite,  heart  and  hand, 
Like  Leonidas'  band, 
And  swear  to  the  God  of  the  ocean  and  land, 
That  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves. 

li.  T.  Faine>   j 


M1XSTR2L.  H 

DEAR  KATHLEEN. 
Dear  Kathleen,  you  do  doubt, 

Find  Bleep  how  v<  ry  sweet  Vis ; 
Dus's  bark,  aiid  cocks  have  erow'd  out, 
You  oever  dn  am  bow  late  'tis. 
.;  gay, 
1  post  away. 
To  have  w  ith  j  ou  a  bit  of  ; 
On  two  legs  lid 
Along  to  bid 
Good  morrow  to  your  night-cap. 

Last  night  a  little  boozy. 

With  whiskey,  ale,  and  cider, 
I  ask'd  young-  Betty  Blowzy, 
To  let  me  sit  beside  her. 

Her  anger  rose, 

As  sour  as  sloes, 
The  little  gipsey  cock'd  her  nose  : 

Yet  here  I've  rid 

Along  to  bid 
Good  morrow  to  your  nie;ht-cap. 

Thee  w'let 

Compose  so  sweet  a  truckle, 
They'll  tempt  you  sure  to  spoil  it, 
Sweet  Sail  and  Bell 
I've  pleas'd  you  well — 
But  hold— I  must'nt  kiss  and  tell, 


'       MINSTREL, 

So  here  Fve  rid 
Along,  to  bid 
Good  morrow  to  your  night-cap.  0'K.eeffe*. 


KITTY  OF  THE  CLYDE. 
A  boat  danc'd  on  Clyde's  bonny  stream. 

When  winds  -were  rudely  blowing-, 
There  sat,  what  might  the  goddess  seem 

Of  the  waves,  beneath  her  flowing ; 
But,  no  ;  a  mortal  fair  was  she, 

Surpassing  all  beside, 
And  youths  aspir'd  her  choice  to  be— 

Sweet  Kitty  of  the  Clyde. 

I  saw  the  boatman  spread  his  sail, 

And,  while  his  daftness  noting, 
The  boat  was  upset  by  the  gale— 

I  saw  sweet  Kitty  floating  ; 
I  plung'd  into  the  silver  wave, 

With  Cupid  for  my  guide, 
And  thought  my  heart  well  lost  to  save 

Sweet  Kitty  of  the  Clyde. 

But  Kitty  is  a  high-bom  fair, 

A  lowly  name  I  carry, 
Nor  can  with  lordly  thanes  compare, 

Who  woo  the  maid  to  marry  ; 
But  she  ne'er  scornful  looks  on  me, 

And  joy  may  yet  betide, 
Fop  hope  dares  flatter  mine  shall  be 

Sweet  Kitty  of  the  Clyde. 


IflNSTREL. 

TWEED  SIDE. 
\That  beau  ties  does  Flora  disclose, 

How  sweet  are  her  smiles  upon  Tweed, 
Yet  Mary's  still  sweeter  than  those, 

Both  nature  and  fancy  exceed  : 
No  daisy  nor  sweet  blushing  rose, 

Nor  all  the  gay  flowers  of  the  field, 
Nor  Tweed  gliding  gently  through  those, 

Such  beauty  and  pleasure  does  yield. 

The  warblers  are  heard  in  the  grove, 

The  linnet,  the  lark,  and  the  thrush, 
The  blackbird,  and  sweet  cooing  dove, 

"With  music  enchants  every  bush. 
Come  let  us  go  forth  to  the  mead, 

Let  us  see  how  the  primroses  spring, 
We'll  lodge  in  some  village  on  Tweed, 

And  love  while  the  featherM folks  sing. 

How  does  my  love  pass  the  long  day  ? 

Does  Maiy  not  tend  a  few  sheep  ? 
Do  they  never  carelessly  stray, 

Whili  -ji  ? 

Tweed's  murmurs  should  lull  her  to  rest ; 

Kind  nature  indulging  my  bliss, 
To  relieve  the  soft  pains  of  my  breast, 

I'd  steal  an  ambrosial  kiss. 

5Tis  she  does  the  virgins  excel, 
No  beauty  with  her  may  compare  ; 

Love's  graces  around  her  do  dwell, 
She's  fairest,  where  thousands  are  fai:. 


MINSTREL. 

Say,  ehannes,  where  do  thy  flocks  stray  ? 

Oh  I  tell  me,  at  noon  where  the)  feed  ? 
Shall  I  seek  them  on  sweet  w hiding  Tx} , 

Or  the  pleatanter  banks  of  the  I 


MY  PRETTY  BRUNEI 
Dear  Nancy  I  have  saii'd  the  world  all  aorandj, 

And  seven  long-  years  been  a  pov 
To  make  for  my  channel-  each/shilling  a  pound,. 

But  now  my  hard  perils-  are  over. 
I* re  saved  from  my  toils  many  hundred* in  gold, 

The  comforts  of  life  to  beget ; 
Have  borne  in  each  climate  the  heat  and  the  cold, 

And  all  for  my  pretty  bran< 
Then  say,  my  sweet  girl  ean  you  love  me  ? 

Tho'  others  may  boast  of  more  riclu  s  than  mine, 

And  rate  my  attractions  e?en  fewer  ; 
At  their  jeers  and  ill-nature  I'll  scorn  to  repine. 

Can  they  boast  of  a  heart  that  is  truer  J 
Or,  will  they  for  thee  plough  the  hazardous  main  ? 

Brave  the  seasons  both  stormy  and 
If  not,  why  I'll  do  it  again  and  ag-ain, 

All  for  my  pretty  brunette, 
Then  say,  my  sweet  girl,  &.C. 

When  order'd  afar,  in  pursuit  of  the  foe, 

I  sigh'd  at  the  bodings  of  fancy, 
Which  fain  would  pursuade  me  I  might  b«  bid  low, 

And  ah  I  never  more  see  my  Nancy  ; 


MINSTREL  •« 

Rut  hope,  like  an  angel,  soon  banished  the  thought, 

And  bade-  jik'  such  nonsense  forget : 
I  took  the  advice,  and  undauntedly  fought, 

And  all  fur  my  pretty  brunette, 
Then  say,  my  sweet  girl,  ccc. 


YE  LING'RING  WINDS. 
Ye  lingering  winds  that  feebly  blow,. 

Why  thus  impede  my  way  ; 
Why  moves  the  lazy  ship  so  slow, 

When  Mary  mourns  my  stay  : 
For  when  site  bade  me  last  adieu, 

cried,  **  Be  true," 
hen  she  bade,  &c. 

When  as  the  midnight  watch  I  keep, 
I  vk  \v  the  sparkling  sea  ; 

round  my  messmates  careless  6leep, 
I  fondly  think  on  thee  ; 

paints  the  tast  adieu, 
When  Mary  wept,  and  cried,  u  Be  true." 
Remembrance  paints,  Sec. 

T!m>'  I  be  distant  as  th< 

Tho'  furious  tempests  foam, 
1  ho'  billows  mount,  tho'  thunders  roll, 
No  distance,  time  or  storm, 

le  can  banish  from  my  view, 
Vfary  went,  ami  cried,  "  Be  true." 
Thi  set  ne^&e. 


90  MINSTREL. 

Oft  up  the  shrouds  my  steps  are  borne, 

I  take  my  airy  stand, 
And  oft  my  longing-  eyes  I  turn, 

And  look  in  vain  for  land  : 
Dejected  I  rejoin  the  crew, 
And  fondly  hope  my  Mary's  true, 
Dejected  I  rejoin,  ccc. 

Come  then,  ye  briskly  pleasing  gales, 
For  once  auspicions  prove  ; 

Come,  swell  the  bosoms  of  my  sails, 
And  waft  me  to  my  love  ; 

Moor'd  in  her  arms,  to  toils  adieu, 

If  still  I  find  my  Mary's  true. 
Moord  in  her  arms,  &c. 


PAST  MASTER'S  SONG. 
Let  Masonry,  from  Pole  to  Pole, 

Her  sacred  laws  expand, 
Far  as  the  mighty  waters  roll, 

To  wash  remotest  lands— 
That  Virtue  has  not  left  mankind, 

Her  social  maxims  prove  ; 
For  stamp'd  upon  the  Masion's  mind, 

Are  Unity  and  Love. 

Ascend  to  her  native  sky, 

Let  Masonry  increase  ; 
A  glorious  pillar  rais'd  on  high. 

Integrity  its  base. 


MINSTREL. 

Peace  adds  to  olive  boughs  entwin'd, 

An  emblematic  dove, 
As  stamp'd  upon  the  ^Mason's  mind, 

Is  Unity  and  Love. 


TO  LIBERTY'S  ENRAPTUR'D  SIGHT. 

T^  liberty*  <  nraptur'd  sight, 

When  first  Columbia  shone  ; 
She  hail'd  it  from  her  starry  height, 

And  smiling,  claim'd  it  as  her  own — 
41  Fair  land,"  the  goddess  eried,"  be  free  ! 

Soil  of  my  choice  I  to  fame  arise  ln 
She  spoke,  and  heaven's  minstrelsy, 

Swell'd  the  lotid  chorus  through  the  skies. 
All  hail,  for  ever  great  and  free, 
Columbia— land  of  liberty ! 

Columbia's  genius  heard  the  strain, 

And  proudly  rais'd  her  drooping  crest, 
Her  sons  impatient  fill'd  the  plain, 

Where  panted  high  each  patriot's  breast. 
Their  fetters  they  indignant  spurn'd, 

They  wav'd  their  falchions  high  in  air, 
And  where  the  goddess'  alter  burn'd, 

From  kneeling  warriors  rose  the  prayer — 
To  die  be  ours,  if  thou  art  free, 
Columbia— land  of  liberty  ! 

War  blew  her  clarion  loud  and  long, 

Oppression  led  his  legions  on  ; 
To  battle  rush'd  the  patriot  throng, 

And  ioon  the  glorious  day  was  won— 


93  MINSTREL. 

Each  bleeding  freeman  sniil'd  in  death  ; 

Flying  he  saw  his  country's  foes, 
And  wafted  by  his  latest  breath, 
To  heaven  the  cheerful  psean  rose- 
Content  I  die— for  thou  art  free  ! 
Columbia— land  of  liberty  ! 
And  shall  we  ever  dim  the  fires, 

That  flame  on  freedom's  hallowed  shrines  !  * 
Shall  glory's  children  shame  their  sires  ! 

Shall  cowards  spring  from  hero's  loins  ! 
No— by  the  blood  our  fathers  shed, 
O  freedom  I  in  thy  holy  cause : 
When  streaming  from  the  martyr'd  dead, 
It  seaPd  and  sanctified  thy  laws—  (       i 
We  swear  to  keep  thee  great  and  free  \ 
Qolumbia— land  of  liberty  I 

BRIGHT  PHOEBUS. 
Bright  Phoebus  has  mounted  the  chariot  of  day, 
And  the  horns  and  the  hounds  call  each  sportsman 

aw  ay  ; 
Thro'  woods  and  thro'  meadows  with  speed  how  they 

bound, 
While  health,  rosy  health,  is  in  exercise^bund. 

Hark  away,  is  the  word,  to  the  sound  of  the  horn, 

And  echo,  blithe  echo  !  makes  jovial  the  morn. 

Each  hill  and  each  valley  is  lovely  to  view, 
While  puss  flies  the  covert,  and  dogs  quick  pursue  ; 
Behold  where  she  flies  o'er  the  wide  spreading  plain. 
While  the  loud  op'ning  pack  pursue  her  amain. 
Hark  away,  &cc. 


MINSTREL.  M 

At  length  puss  is  caught,  nnd  lies  panting  for  breath, 
And  the  shout  of  the  huntsman's  the  signal  for  death  ; 
No  joys  can  delight  like  the  sports  of  the  field, 
To  hunting-,  all  pleasure  and  pastime  must  yield. 
Hark  away,  &c. 

IX  IRELAND  SO  FRISKEY. 
Oh:  in  Ireland  so  frisky,  with  sweet  girls  and  whiskey, 
We  manage  to  keep  care  and  sorrow  aloof; 
Our  whirKgig  revels,  made  all  the  blue  devils 

>nt  \\  nh  the  smoke,  through  a  hole  in  the  roof. 

Ill  remember,  one  foggy  November, 
My  mother  cried,  "  go  make  your  fortune  my  lad  ; 
Go  bother  the  ninnies,  clean  out  of  their  guineas," 
Away  then  I  scamper'd  from  Ballinafad. 

Oh  I  to  seek  for  promotion,  I  walk'd  the  wide  ocean, 
ipwreck'd,  and  murder'd,  and  sold  for  a  slave  ; 
Over  mountains  and  livers  w  as  pelted  to  shivers, 
And  met  on  this  land  with  a  watery  grave. 
Bin.  now  safe  on  dry  land,  in  this  blessed  island, 
Oh  !  whiskey  and  cubba  will  make  my  heart  glad  ; 
To  the  sweet  flowing  Liffey,  I'm  off  in  a  giffey, 
a  whack  for  old  Ireland  and  Ballinafad. 

And  its  oh  !  from  this  station  to  that  blessed  nation, 
Again  Master  Murtock  shall  visit  your  shore  : 
Where  I'll  flourish  so  gaily  my  sprig  of  shillelah, 
Long  life  to  the  girls  and  to  whiskey  galore. 
O,  then  all  my  cousins  will  run  out  by  dozens, 
And  out  too  will  hobble  old  mammy  and  dad  ; 
When  at  dinner  they "11  treat  us  with  mealy  potatoei, 
And  whiskey  dislill'd  at  sweet  Ballinafad. 


04  MINSTREL. 

My  American  beauty  with  skin  rather  sooty, 

With  fun  and  fandango  will  join  in  our  jigs, 

While  she'll  cry  with  a  titter, "  the  room's  in  a  litter,'* 

Arrah,  darling,  says  I,"  tis  a  litter  of  pigs," 

Oh!  then  all  the  girls  will  conge  and  giggle, 

And  dance  all  around  as  if  they  were  mad  ; 

While  the  bells  in  the  steeple  will  tell  all  the  people, 

Arrah,  Murtock's  come  back  to  sweet  Ballinafad. 


THE  BAY  OF  BISCAY  O! 

Loud  roar'd  the  dreadful  thunder, 

The  rain  a  deluge  show'rs  I 
The  clouds  were  rent  asunder, 
By  light'nings  vivid  pow'r;  I 
The  night  both  drear  and  dark, 
Our  poor  devoted  bark, 
Till  next  day, 
There  she  lay, 
In  the  bay  of  Biscay  O  ! 

Now  dash'd  upon  the  billows, 
Our  op'ning  timbers  creak  ; 
Each  fears  a  wat'ry  pillow, 
None  stop  the  dreadful  leak  ! 
To  cling  the  siipp'ry  shrouds, 
Each  breathless  seaman  crowds, 
As  she  lay, 
Till  next  day, 
In  the  bay  of  Biscay,  O ! 

At  length  the  wish'd  for  morrow, 
Broke  thro'  the  hazy  sky  ; 


MINSTREL 

Absorb'd  in  silent  sorrow, 
Each  heav'd  the  bitter  sigh  ; 
The  dismal  wreck  to  view, 
Struck  honor  to  the  crew, 
As  she  lay, 
On  that  day, 
In  the  bay  of  Biscay,  O  .' 

Her  yielding  timbers  sever, 

Her  pitchy  seams  are  rent ; 
When  heav'n  all  bounteous  ever, 
It  boundless  mercy  ientj 
A  sail  in  right  appears, 

I  it  with  three  cheers  I 
sail, 
With  the  gale, 
From  the  bay  of  Biscay,  O  [ 


JUG,  JUG,  JUG, 
I've  liv'd  a  life  of  some  few  years, 

I'm  fifiy-four  to-morrow  ; 
For  every  smile  Pre  shed  three  tears, 

I  nusmm-lingjoy^ith  sorrow, 
Now  wiser  grown,  I  scorn  to  cry, 

Though  tears  are  wet  and  I  am  dry, 
And  if  a  drop  IVe  in  my  eye, 
And  ifa  drop  I've  in  my  eye, 

Tuwhen  I  hear  the  glasses  line' 


MINSTREL. 

The  friend  I  trusted,  lack  a  day. 

Most  scurvily  abus'd  me  ; 
The  wife  I  married  ran  away, 

With  him  who  thus  did  use  me. 
My  grief  too  big-  to  let  me  cry, 

Could  only  tell  my  sorrows  dry, 
And  if  a  drop  I've  in  my  eye, 
And  if  a  drop  I've  in  my  eye, 
'This  when,  8cc. 

Yet  think  not  tho"  some  folks  are  bad, 
111  usage  makes  me  sulking  ; 

At  duty's  call  old  Jack's  the  lad, 
"Who  ne'er  was  fond  of  skulking  ; 

When  love  of  country  wets  the  eye, 
Like  ev'ry  tar  my  best  I'll  try, 

To  drub  the  foe  when  I  am  dry, 

To  drub  the  foe  when  I  am  dry. 
Drink  friends  again,  away  care  fling, 
While  jug,  jug,  jug,  the  bottles  sing. 


SOFT  FANCY. 

In  airy  dreams  soft  fancy  flies, 

My  absent  love  to  see : 
And  with  the  early  dawn  I  rise, 

Dear  youth  to  think  on  thee. 

How  swiftly  flew  the  rosy  hours, 
While  love  and  hope  were  new, 

Sweet  as  the  breath  of  opening  flowers, 
But  ah  !  as  transient  too. 


MINSTREL.  " 

FLOW  ON,  THOU  SHINING  RIVER. 
Flow  on,  thou  shining  nver, 

But  ere  thou  reach  the  sen, 
Seek  Ella's  bower  and  give  her 

The  wreath  I  fling-  o'er  thee  ; 
And  tell  her  thus,  if  she'll  be  mine, 

The  current  of  our  lives  s^hall  be, 
With  joys  along  their  course  to  shine, 

Like  those  sweet  flowers  on  thee. 

But  if,  in  wand'ring  thither, 

ThoufintTst  she  mocks  my  prayer, 
Then  leave  those  wreaths  to  wither 

Upon  the  cold  bank  there  ; 
And  tell  her  thus,  when  youth  is  o'er, 

Her  lone  and  loveless  charms  shall  be 
Thrown  upon  life's  weedy  shore, 

Like  those  sweet  flowers  from  thee. 

r.  Moore, 


ALL  THAT'S  BRIGHT  MUST  FADE. 
All  that's  bright  must  fade, 

The  brightest  still  the  fleetest, 
All  that's  sweet  was  made 

But  to  be  lost  when  sweetest ; 
Stars  that  shine  and  fall, 

The  flow'r  that  drops  in  springing, 
These,  alas!  are  types  of  all 

To  whioh  our  hearts  are  clinging, 
G 


MINSTREL. 

Who  would  seek,  or  prize 

Delights  that  end  in  aching  ? 
Who  would  trust  to  ties 

That  ev'ry  hour  are  breaking  I 
Better  far  to  be 

In  utter  darkness  lying, 
Than  be  blest  with  light,  and  see 

That  light  for  ever  flying. 
All  that's,  &c. 


WILLIAM  OF  THE  FERRY. 
Near  Clyde's  gay  streams,  there  liv'd  a  maid, 

Whose  mind  was  chaste  and  pure  ; 
Content  she  lived  a  humble  life, 

Belov'd  by  all  who  knew  her ; 
Protected  'neath  her  parents  roof, 

Her  time  pass'd  on  so  merry, 
She  lov'd,  and  was  belov'd  again, 

By  WiJliam  of  the  ferry. 

From  morning  dawn  till  set  of  sun, 

Poor  William  lahour'd  hard, 
And  when  at  evening's  glad  return, 

How  sweet  was  his  reward  ; 
With  heart  so  light  unto  her  cot, 

He  tripp'd  so  blithe  and  merry, 
All  daily  toil  was  soon  forgot, 

By  William  of  the  fern-. 

With  joy  their  parents  gave  consent, 
And  haii'd  the  bridal  day. 


MINSTREL. 

Ere  it  avrir'd  the  press-gang  carne, 

Anil  forc'd  poor  Will  away  : 
He  found  resistance  was  in  vain, 

They  dragg'd  him  from  his  wherry, 
I  ne'er  shall  see  my  love  again, 

Cried  William  of  the  ferry. 

Loud  blew  the  angry  winds  around, 

When  scarce  a  league  from  shore, 
The  boat  upset,  the  ruffian  crew, 

Soon  sunk  to  rise  no  more. 
But  William  fearless  hrav'd  the  waves, 

And  safely  reach'd  his  wherry ; 
Peace  was  proclaim';!,  and  Jane's  now  bless'd, 

With  William  of  the  ferry. 


THE  COTTAGE  ON  THE  MOOR. 
My  mam  is  no  more,  and  my  dad's  in  his  grave, 

Little  orphans  are  sister  and  I,  sadly  poor, 
Industry  our  wealth,  and  no  dwelling  we  have, 

But  yon  neat  little  cottage  that  stands  on  the  moor. 

The  lark's  early  song  does  to  labor  invite, 
Contented  we  just  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door; 

And,  Phcebus  retiring,  trip  home  with  delight, 
To  our  neat  little  cottage  that  stands  on  the  moor. 

Our  meals  are  but  homely,  mirth  sweetens  the  cheer, 

Affection's  our  inmate,  the  guest  we  adore  ; 
And  heart-ease  and  health  make  a  palace  appear 
.   Of  our  neat  little  cottage  that  stands  on  the  moor. 


100  MINSTREL. 

THE  VICAR  AND  MOSES. 
At  the  sign  of  the  horse,  old  Spintext,  of  course, 

Each  night  took  his  pipe  and  his  pot, 
O'er  a  jorum  of  nappy,  quit  pleasant  and  happy, 
Was  plac'd  this  canonical  sot. 

Tol  de  rol  de  rol  lol  de  rol  la. 

:  The  evening*  was  dark,  when  in  came  the  clerk, 
With  reverence  due  and  submission  ; 
First  strok'd  his  cravat,  then  twiiTd  round  hi3  hat, 
And  bowing,  preferr'd  his  petiton. 

I  'I'm  come,  sir,'  said  he, c  to  beg,  look,  d'ye  see, 

Of  your  reverend  worship  and  glory, 
i   To  inter  a  poor  baby,  with  as  much  speed  as  may  he, 

And  I'll  walk  with  the  lanthorn  before  ye.' 

"  The  body  we'll  bury,  but  pray  where's  the  hurry  ?" 
*  Why  Lord,  sir,  the  corpse  it  does  stay  ;? 

B  You  fool  hold  your  peace,  since  miracles  cease, 
A  corpse,  Moses,  can't  run  away." 

Then  Moses  he  smil'd,  saying,  'sir,  a  small  child, 
j     Cannot  long  delay  your  intentions  ;' 
M  Why  that's  true,  by  St.  Paul,  a  child  that  is  small 
Can  never  enlarge  its  dimensions. 

ISring  Moses  some  beer,  and  bring  me  some,  d'ye  hear  I 

1  hate  to  be  calfd  from  my  liquor, 
Come  Moses,  the  king ;  'tis  a  scandalous  thing, 

Such  a  subject  should  be  but  a  vicar.'' 
Then  Moses  he  spoke  ;  l  Sir,  'tis  past  twelve  o'clock, 

Besides  there's  a  terrible  shower  ;' 


MINSTREL,  101 

*\Vhy>!»  ce  the  clock'.hu  struck  twelve* 

I'm  sure  it  can  nerer  strike  more. 

.  my  dear  friend,  this  lesson  attend, 
Which  to  say  and  to  swear  I'll  be  bold, 
That  the  corpse,  snow  or  rain,  can't  endanger,  that's 
plain  ; 
Kut  perhaps  you  or  I  may  take  cold." 

Th«.n  Moses  went  on  ;  '  Sir,  the  clock  has  struck  one* 

Pray,  master,  lookup  at  the  hand  ;" 
"  Why,  it  ne'er  can  strike  less,  'tis  lolly  to  press 

A  man  to  walk  on  that  can't  stand/' 

At  length,  hat  and  cloak  old  Orthodox  took, 
But  first  cramm'd  his  jaw  with  a  quid  ; 

Each  tipp'd  oft' a  gill,  for  fear  they  should  chill, 
And  t:  n  side  by  side. 

When  come  to  the  grave,  the  clerk  hum'd  a  stave, 
While  the  surplice  was  wrapt  round  the  priest ; 
10  droll  was  the  figure  of  Moses  and  Vicar, 
That  the  parish  still  talk  of  the  jest. 

"  Good  people,  let's  pray,  put  the  corpse  t'other  way, 

Or  perchance  I  shall  over  it  stumble  ; 
'Tis  best  to  take  care,  tho'  the  sages  declare, 

A  mortuum  caput  can't  tremble. 

Woman  that's  of  a  man  born  ;  that's  wrong,  the  leafs 
torn : 

A  man,  that  is  born  of  a  woman, 
Can't  continue  an  hour,  but  is  cut  down  like  a  flower, 

You  see,  Moses,  death  spareth  no  man. 


102  MINSTREL. 

Here  Moses,  do  look,  what  a  confounded  book, 
Sure  the  letters  are  turn'd  upside  down  : 

Such  a  scandalous  print,  sure  the  devil  is  in't, 
That  a  blockhead  should  print  for  the  crown. 

Pr  ythee,  Moses,  do  read,  for  I  cannot  proceed, 
And  bury  the  corpse  in  my  stead." 
('Amen !  amen !') 
"  Why,  Moses,  you're  wrong,  pray  hold  still   your 
tongue, 
You've  taken  the  tail  for  the  head. 

*  O  where's  thy  sting,  death  ?"  put  the  corpse  in  the 
earth, 
For,  believe  me,  'tis  terrible  weather." 
So  the  corpse  was  interr'd,  without  praying  a  word, 
And  away  they  both  stagger'd  together, 
Singing,  tol  de  rol  lol  de  rol  la. 


WHEN  BIBO  WENT  DOWN. 
When  Bibo  went  down  to  the  regions  below, 
Where  Lethe  and  Styx  round  eternity  flow. 
He  wak'd  in  the  boat,  and  he  would  be  row'd  back, 
Tor  his  soul  it  was  thirsty  and  wanted  some  sack. 
But  Charon  replied,  you  were  drunk  when  you  died. 
And  ne'er  felt  the  pains  that  to  death  are  allied  ; 
Take  me  back,  replied  Bibo,  I  mind  not  the  pain, 
And  if  I  was  drunk  let  me  die  once  again. 

Forget,  replied  Charon,  those  regions  of  strife, 
Drink  of  Lethe  divine,  'tis  the  fountain  of  life, 


!  REL.  10* 

Where  the  nml  is  new  born,  and  all  past  is  a  dream, 
FA-n  th^  gods  themselves  sip  of  the  care-drowning 

stream ; 
Th-  god*  !  replied  Bibo— Drink  water  who  will, 

:  ...tals  Til  ever  fulfil : 
So  prate  not  to  me  of  your  Lethe  divine, 
Our  Lethe  on  earth  is  a  bumper  of  wine. 

At  length  ir.  im  .Id  Cerberus  gave  a  loud  roar. 

When  the  crazy  old  bark  struck  the  Stygian  shore  ; 

Then  Bibo  got  up  and  he  stagger'd  to  land, 

And  he  jostled  the- ghosts  as  they  stood  on  the  strand. 

Says  Cha  in  to  rebel, 

For  you've  banish'd  from  earth,  and  are  now  in  hell ; 

That's  a  truth,  replied  Bibo,  I  know  by  this  sign, 

For  'tis  hell  upon  earth  to  be  wanting  of  wine. 

AND  HAS  SHE  THEN  FAIL'D. 
And  has  she  then  faifd  in  her  truth  ? 

The  beautiful  maid  I  adoro  ; 
Shall  I  never  again  hear  her  voice. 

Nor  see  her  lov'd  form  any  more  I 
No,  no,  no,  I  3hall  ne'er  se,e  her  more. 

A  h,  Selima,  cruel  you  prove, 

Yet  sure  my  hard  lot  you'll  bewail  ; 

I  could  not  presume  you  would  love, 
Yet  pity  I  hoped  would  prevail, 

And  since  hatred  alone  I  inspire, 

Life  henceforth  is  not  worth  my  tare, 

Death  now  is  my  only  desire, 
I  give  myifclf  up  to  despair. 


,  MINSTREL. 

THE  CORONATION. 
At  my  sweet  home  in  our  village. 

When  we  have  done  our  I 
The  barber  every  night  does  read 

The  news  to  each  good  neighbour  ; 
I  heard  it  all  and  did  not  stay, 

For  fathers  approbation, 
But  started  off  to  Lunnun  town, 

To  see  the  Coronation; 
When  here,  I  got  across  the  bttdg  s 

I  felt  myself  quite  fluster  d. 
To  see  all  around  about  the  town, 
Such  flocks  of  people  muster  d  ; 
But  howsoraedevev  in  the  crowd, 

I  got  myself  a  station, 
And  there  I  waited  anxiously 

To  see  the  Coronation; 
Somehow  ■  trooper's  prancing  hor,e, 

Got  frighten'd  at  a  dandy, 
And  caper  d  in  among  the  crowd, 

So  frolicsome  and  randy  ; 

So  I  was  carried  off  my  legs, 

And  shoved  on  elevation, 

Where  I  got  a  seat  for  nought,  to  see 

The  famous  Coronation. 

I  wt  me  down  so  very  still. 
And  no  one  came  to  rout  me, 

1  slily  cast  my  eyei  upon 
Tha  Ladies  round  about  me  j 


MINSTREL. 

The  crowd  it  was  so  very  great, 

Put  all  in  a  prespi ration, 
And  melted  all  the  red  and  white 

At  the  famous  Coronation. 
Ju^t  at  the  time  I  do  declare, 

Procession  was  beginning, 
1  saw  dukes  and  nobles  looking  blue, 

And  lankce  lords  a  grinning  ; 
1  simply  asked  for  the  king, 

When  a  man  wi'  irritation, 
Says,  you're  a  very  pretty  fowl 

To  come  to  Coronation. 

0  then  the  king  himself  did  come, 
Dressed  out  so  fine,  O  dear  me  ! 

1  never  had  in  all  my  life, 
A  king  so  very  near  me  ; 

ciously  he  made  a  bow, 
■i ••,  in  congregation, 
£o  I  were  token  notice  of 
At  famous  Coronation. 

When  this  I  found  at  end,  thinks  I, 

I've  see'd  all  that  I  can  see, 
V  hen  out  1  got,  and  then  I  found, 

I'd  paid  dear  for  my  fancy  ; 
j  lost  a  sovereign  and  my  purse, 

And  on  examination, 
My  watch  that  ne'er  would  go  before, 

Gad  went  at  Coronation. 

Although  I  lost  my  money  purse, 
And  thief  mv  pockets  fumbling, 


MINSTREL. 

You  may'nt  suppose  that  ever  I 
Do  give  rny  mind  to  grumbling ; 

I  like  the  sight  so  very  well, 
Without  the  leastest  hesitation, 

I'd  just  another  sov'reign  give, 
To  see  another  Coronation. 


LOGAN  BRAES. 
O  Logan  sweetly  didst  thou  glide, 
That  day  I  was  my  Willie's  bride  ; 
And  years  since  ye  hae  o'er  us  run, 
Like  Logan  to  the  simmer  sun. 
But  now  thytflow;ry  banks  appear 
Like  drumly  winter  dark  and  drear, 
While  my  dear  lad  maun  face  his  faes, 
Far,  far  frae  me  and  Logan  braes; 

Again  the  merry  month  o'  May, 

Has  made  our  hills  and  valleys  gay  ; 

The  birds  rejoice  in  leafy  bow'rs  ; 

The  bees  hum  round  the  breathing  fiow'rs : 

Blythc  morning  lifts  his  rosy  eye, 

And  evening's  tears  are  tears  of  joy ; 

My  soul,  delightless,  a'  surveys, 

While  Willie's  far  frae  Logan  braes. 

Within  yon  milk-white  hawthorn  bush, 
Amang  her  nestlings  sits  the  thrush  ; 
Herfaithfu'  mate  will  share  her  toil, 
Or  wi'  his  sang  her  cares  beguile  : 
But  1  wi'  my  tweet  nurselings  here, 
Nae  mate  to  help,  nae  mate  to  cheer, 


MINSTREL.  107 

Trm  widow  M  nights  and  joyless  days, 
While  Willie's  fur  frae  Logan  braes. 

O  wae  upon  you  men  o'  state, 
That  brethren  rouse  to  deadly  hate  ! 
Uye  rink  mony  a  fond  heart  mourn, 
Sae  may  it  on  your  heads  return  ! 
How  can  your  flinty  hearts  enjoy 
The  widow's  tears,  the  orphan's  cry  ? 
But  soon  may  peace  bring  happy  days. 
And  Willie  haiue  to  Logan  braes '.  Burnt* 


FLY  NOT  YET. 
Air— '•  Pianxty  Kelly." 
Fly  not  yet  'tis  just  the 
When  pleasure  like  the  midnight  fiow'r, 
That  scorns  the  eye  of  vulgar  light, 
''•  bloom  for  sons  of  night, 
And  maids  that  love  the  moon : 
Twas  but  to  bless  the  hours  of  shade, 
That  beauty  and  the  moon  were  mad.- : 
'Tis  then,  their  soft  attractions  glowing, 
Set  the  tides  and  goblets  Mowing. 
Oh!  stay— Oh!  stay,— 

a  chain 
Like  this  to  night,  that,  oh  !  'tis  pain, 
To  break  its  links  so  soon. 

Fly  not  yet,  the  fount  that  play'd 

In  times  of  old  through  Amnion's  shade, 

Through  icy  cold  by  day  it  ran, 

Yet  still,  like  souls  of  mirth  began 


I  MINSTREL. 

To  bum  when  night  was  near : 
And  thus  should  woman's  heart  and  looks, 
At  neon  be  cold  in  winter  brooks, 
Nor  kindle,  till  the  night  returning-, 
Brings  their  genial  hour  for  burning. 

Oh!  stay,— Oh!  stay- 
When  did  morning  ever  break, 
And  find  such  beaming  eyes  awake 

As  those  that  sparkle  here.  T.  Moorc> 


BESSY. 
Fly  from  the  world,  oh !  Bessy  to  me, 

Thou'lt  never  find  any  sincerer, 
I'll  give  up  the  world,  oh  !  Bessy,  for  thee, 

I'll  never  find  any  that's  dearer : 
Then  tell  me  no  more  with  a  tear  and  a  sigh, 

That  our  loves  will  be  cer.mr'd  by  many, 
All  have  their  follies  and  who  can  deny, 

That  ours  is  sweetest  of  any. 

When  your  lips  has  met  mine,  in  abandonment  sweet, 

Have  we  felt  as  if  virtue  forbid  it, 
Have  we  felt  as  if  heaven  denied  them  to  meet, 

No,  rather  'twas  heaven  that  did  it, 
So  innocent,  love,  is  the  pleasure  we  sip, 

So  little  of  guilt  is  there  in  it. 
That  I  wish  all  my  errors  were  lodg'd  on  your  lip, 

And  I'd  kiss  them  away  in  a  minute. 

Then  come  to  your  lover,  oh,  fly  to  his  shed, 
From  a  world  which  I  know  thou  despisest, 


MINSTREL.  100 

And  slumber  will  hover  as  light  o'er  our  head, 

A  •>  i  'en  <>n  the  couch  oi*  the  W  isest, 
And  \\  hen  o'er  our  pillow  the  tempest!  is  driven, 

And  thou,  pretty  innocent  fearest ; 
I'll  tell  thee  it  is  not  the  chidings  of  heaven. 

'Tis  only  our  lullaby,  dearest. 

And,  oh,  when  we  lay  on  our  death-bed,  my  love, 

Looking  back  on  the  scenes  of  our  errors, 
A  sigh  from  my  Bessy  shall  plead  then  above, 

And  death  be  disarm'd  of  his  terrors  : 
And  each  to  the  other,  embracing  will  say, 

Farewell,  let  us  hope  we're  forgiven  ; 
Thy  last  fading  glance  will  illumine  the  way. 

And  a  kiss  be  our  passport  to  heaven.        T.  Moore. 

GOW'S  FAREWELL  TO  WHISKEY. 
You've  surely  heard  o'  famous  Niel, 
The  man  that  play'd  the  fiddle  weel, 
I  wat  he  was  a  canty  duel', 

And  dearly  lo'ed  the  whiskey,  O  ! 
And  ay  sin'  he  wore  tartan  trews, 
He  dearly  lo'ed  the  Athole  brose  ; 
And  wae  was  he,  you  may  suppose, 

To  play  farewell  to  whiskey,  O. 

Alake,  quoth  Niel,  I'm  frail  aud  auld, 
And  find  my  bluid  grows  unco  cauld, 
I  think  ?twad  mak  me  blythe  and  bauld, 

A  wee  drap  highland  whiskey,  O  ! 
Yet  the  doctors  they  do  a'  agree, 
That  whiskey's  na  the  drink  for  me  : 


' 


HO  MINSTREL. 

Saul,  quoth  he,  'twill  spoil  my  glee. 
Should  they  part  me  and  whiskey,  O. 

Tho"  I  can  get  baith  wine  and  ale, 
And  find  my  head  and  fingers  hale, 
I'll  be  content,  tho'  legs  should  fail, 

To  play  farew  eel  to  whiskey,  O. 
But  still  I  think  on  auld  lang  syne, 
When  Paradise  our  friends  did  tyne, 
Because  something  ran  in  their  mind , 

Forbid,  like  highland  whiskey,  O. 

Come,  a'  ye  powers  of  music,  come ! 
I  find  my  heart  grows  unco  glum; 
My  fiddle-strings  will  na  play  bum 

To  say  fareweel  to  whiskey,  O. 
Yet  I'll  tak  my  fiddle  in  my  hand, 
And  screw  the  pegs  up  while  they'll  stand, 
To  mak  a  lamentation  grand, 

On  gude  auld  highland  whiskey,  O. 

A  FREE  AND  ACCEPTED  MASON. 

Come  let  us  prepare 

We  Brothers  that  are 
Assembled  on  merry  occasion  ; 

Let's  drink,  laugh,  and  sing, 

Our  wine  has  a  spring, 
Here's  a  health  to  an  accepted  mason. 

The  world  is  in  pain 

Our  secret  to  gain, 
And  still  let  them  wonder  and  gaze  on. 


MINSTREL  I11 

They  ne'er  can  divine 
Tht>  word  or  the  sign 
Of  a  free  and  an  accepted  mason. 

'Tis  this  and  'tis  that, 

They  cannot  tell  what. 
Why  so  many  great  men  of  the  nation, 

Should  aprons  put  on, 

To  make  themselves  one 
With  a  free  and  an  accepted  mason. 

Cireat  kings,  dukes,  and  lords, 

Have  laid  by  their  swords, 
Our  mysteries  to  put  a  good  grace  on, 

And  ntr 'er  be  ashamed 

To  hear  themselves  named 
With  a  free  and  an  accepted  mason. 

Still  firm  to  our  trust, 

In  friendship  we're  just, 
Our  actions  we  guide  by  our  reason, 

By  observing  this  rule, 

The  passions  move  cool 
Of  a  free  and  an  accepted  mason. 

All  idle  debate 
About  church  or  the  state. 
The  springs  of  impiety  and  treaaon, 
ruaen  of  strife 
ruffle  the  life 
Of  a  fVee  and  an  accepted  mason. 
Antiquity's  pride. 


\  MINSTREL. 

Which  adds  high  renown  to  our  station, 

There's  nought  but  what's  good 

To  be  understood 
By  a  free  and  an  accepted  mason. 

The  clergy  embrace, 

And  all  Aaron's  race, 
Our  square  actions  their  knowledge  to  place  on. 

And  in  each  degree 

They'll  honoured  be 
With  a  free  and  an  accepted  mason. 

We're  true  and  sincere 

In  our  love  to  the  fair. 
Who  will  trust  us  on  every  occasion  ; 

No  mortal  can  more 

The  ladies  adore 
Than  a  free  and  an  accepted  mason. 

Then  j  oin  hand  in  hand, 

To  each  other  firm  stand  ; 
Let's  be  merry  and  put  a  good  face  on. 

What  mortal  can  boast 

So  noble  a  toast, 
As  a  free  and  an  accepted  mason. 

GO  TO  BED  SAM. 
Air—  "A  Cobbler  liv'dat  York:1 
In  the  conjugal  chain  firmly  tied 

Sam  and  Sal  resolved  to  be, 
The  maiden  a  stout  6ix-foot  bride, 
The  bridegroom  just  three  foot  and  three, 


MINSTREL.  HS 

In  their  way  to  the  church  a  brook 

Bubbled  across  the  road, 
Her  spouse  in  her  arms  she  took, 

And  over  it  neatly  strode. 

Spoken.—"  Vy  doesn't  you  move  your  trotters,  Sam; 
you  doesn't  seem  to  be  in  a  very  great  hurry  to  be 
made  happy.  I  supposes  Bet  still  runs  in  your  head, 
a  hussy  ;  but  ven  I  am  your  lawful  vedded  vife,  I'll 
sift  that  affair  to  the  very  bottom,  and  if  it's  true,  I'll 
ring  in  your  ears  such  a 

B  o\v  de  dow  de  dow.  row  de  dow  de  dow, 
Go  to  bed,  Sam. 
The  little  man's  nose  o'er  his  chin 
Hung,  shielding  it  from  the  sun, 
His  tof-s  they  turned  prettily  in  ; 

He'd  of  two  little  pig's  eyes  lost  one. 
His  bride  with  a  snubbefied  snout, 

Not  quite  an  inch  in  size. 
Had  legs  which  bow'd  neatly  out, 
And  grey  goggle  gooseberry  eyes. 
Spoken.— Vike  the  great,  they  saw  a  great  deal  of 
company,  and  but  little  of  their  own.      Sam  did  not 
mind  bending  his  back  so  that  he  got  something  by 
it;  they  drank  hard,  kept  late  hours,  dined  so  late 
sometimes  that  they  waited  until  the  following  day  for 
their  dinner  ;  but  Sal  found  out  Sam  gambled.    i  So 
sir.  you  toss  up  with  Blindscrape,  the  fiddler,  do  you, 
sir  V  Indeed,  she  did  ring  in  his  ears  such  a 
Bow  de  dowr,  &.c. 
Their  tempers  no  more  could  agree, 

Soon  another  quarrel  arose  ; 
While  at  bandy  legs  sneering  was  he, 
She  lustily  rung  his  long  note  ; 
H 


114  MINSTR) 

Till  forced  to  submit  to  his  fate, 

As  he  must  do  who  weds, 
Their  broils,  like  those  of  the  threat, 
They  ended  in  separate  b< 
Spoken.— So  there  uas  an  end  of  these 
Ro*  d-r  do  - 


QUITE  POLITFLY. 
"When  first  in  Lunnun  I  arnv'd. 

On  a  visit. on  a  visit, 
"When  first  in  Lunnun,  I  arri\  rd, 

1  Midst  heavy  rain  and  thunder, 
There  I  espy'd  a  lass  in  gnen* 
The  bonniest  wench  thai  eyei  t'er  seen  : 
I'd  often  heard  of  beauty's  queen, 
Thinks  I,  by  gum,  I've  found  her. 
Tol  derol,  5cc. 

She  <tood  stock  still,  I  did  the  same, 

g  on  her,  gazing  on  her, 
She  stood  stock  still,  1  did  the  same, 

We  both  looked  mighty  sample  ; 
Her  cheeks  were  like  the  blushing  rose, 
"Which  on  the  hedge  neglected  blo^s, 
Her  eyes  were  black  as  any  sloes, 
And  nigh  her  month  a  dimple. 

Tol  de  rol,  ckc. 

Madam,  say*.  I  and  made  a  bow, 

.  seraping  to  her 
Madam,  aai ;  ' 
J  quite  forgot  the  weather  ; 


MINSTREL  US 

If  you  will  I  permission  give, 
I'll  see  you  home  where'er  you  live, 
\Tith  that  she  took  me  by  the  sleeve, 
Aud  off  we  trudg'd  together. 

Tol  de  rol,  &c. 

A  pratty  wild-goose  chase  we  had, 

Up  and  down,  sirs,  in  and  out  sirs, 
A  pratty  wild-goose  chase  we  had, 
The  cobbled  stones  so  gall'd  me  ; 
At  length  we  came  unto  a  door, 
"Where  twenty  lasses,  ay,  or  more. 
Came  out  to  have  a  bit  galore, 
At  a  bumpkin,  as  they  call'd  me, 

Tol  de  rol,  Sec. 

Walk  in,  kind  sir,  says  she  to  me, 

Quite  politely,  quite  politely, 
Walk  in,  kind  sir,  says  she  to  me, 

Poor  lad,  they  cried,  he's  undone. 
Walk  in,  kind  sir,— not  so,  says  I, 
For  I've  got  other  fish  to  fry  : 
I've  seen  you  home,  so  now  good  bye, 
l'ze  Yorkshire,  though  in  Lunnun. 
Tol  de  rol,  &c. 

My  pockets  soon  I  rummaged  o'er, 

Cautious  ever,  cautious  ever, 
My  pockets  soon  I  rummaged  o'er, 

I  found  a  diamond  ring  there  ; 
For  I  had  this  precaution  took, 
To  stitch  in  each  a  small  fish  hook, 


115  MINSTREL. 

In  groping  for  my  pocket  book, 
The  hook  it  stript  her  finger. 

Tol  de  rol,  &c 

Three  weeks  I've  been  in  Lunnun  town, 

Living  idle,  living  idle, 

Three  weeks  I've  been  in  Lunnun  town, 

'Tis  time  to  strike  to  work,  sir  ; 
I  did  not  play  the  silly  ass, 
I  sold  the  ring,  and  got  the  brass, 
•T  will  do  to  toast  the  Lunnun  lass, 
When  I  get  back  to  Yorkshire. 

Tol  de  rol,  Sec. 


MY  FRIEND  IS  THE  MAN. 
My  friend  is  the  man  I  would  copy  through  life, 
He  harbours  no  envy,  he  causes  no  strife  ; 
No  murmurs  escape  him,  though  fortune  bears  hard, 
Content  is  his  portion,  and  peace  his  reward  . 

Still  happy  in  his  station, 

He  minds  his  occupation, 

Nor  heeds  the  snare*, 

Nor  knows  the  cares 
"Which  vice  and  folly  bring, 

Daily  working  wearily, 

And  nightly  singing  cheerily, 
Dear  to  him  his  wife,  his  home,  his  land  and  liberty. 

His  heart  is  enlarged,  though  his  income  i3  scant, 
He  lessens  his  little  for  others  that  want ; 


MIX5TREL.  117 

Thu'  hi*  children's  dear  claims  on  his  industry  press, 
He  has  something  to  spare  for  the  child  of  distress. 

He  seeks  no  idle  squabble, 

He  joins  no  thoughtless  rabble, 

To  clear  his  way 

From  day  to  day 
His  honest  views  extend  ; 

When  he  «peaks  it's  verily 

"VVhen  he  smiles  it's  manly, 
Dear  to  him  his  sport,  his  toil,  his  honour,  and  his 
friend. 

How  charming  to  find  in  his  humble  retreat 
That  bliss  so  mw  in  known  to  the  great, 

The  wife  only  anxious  her  fondness  to  prove, 
The  playful  endearments  of  infantile  love. 
Relaxing  from  his  labours, 
Amid  his  welcome  neighbours, 
With  plain  r 
Whbjest  and  taie, 
The  happy  hero  see  ; 

aes  confound  him, 
All  his  joys  surround  him. 
1>ear  he  h  land,  its  laws,  and  liberty! 

.  P.  Andrews. 


E  SOLDIER'S  DRi; 
Our  bugles  sang  truce,  for  the  night-cloudjhad  lower'd; 

And  the  sentinel-star;  set  their  watch  in  the  sky, 
And  thousand*  h->d  sunk  on  the  ground,  orerpower'd; 

The  weary  to  sleep,  and  the  wounded  to  die. 


118  MINSTREL. 

When  reposing  that  night  on  my  pallet  of  itraw, 
By  the  wolf-scaring  faggot,  that  guarded  the  slain, 

In  the  dead  of  the  night  a  sweet  vision  1  saw, 
And  twice  'ere  the  morning  I  dreamt  it  again. 

Methought  from  the  battle-field's  dreadful  array, 

Far,  far,  I  had  roamed  on  a  desolate  track, 
Till  nature  and  sunshine  disclosed  the  sweet  way 

To  the  house  of  my  father's  that  welcomed  me  back. 
I  flew  to  the  pleasant  fields,  traversed  so  oft 

In  life's  morning  march,  when  my  bosom  was  young; 
I  heard  my  own  mountain  goats  bleating  aloft, 

And  well  knew  the  strain  that  the  corn  reapers  sung. 

Then  pledged  we  the  wine-cup,  and  fondly  I  swore, 

From  my  home  and  myweeping  friends  never  to  p:irt$ 
My  little  ones  kissed  me  a  thousand  times  b'er, 

And  my  wife  sobbed  aloud  in  the  fulness  of  heart. 
M  Stay,  stay  with  us,  rest,  thou  art  weary  and  worn  1" 

And  fain  was  the  war-broken  soldier  to  stay, 
But  sorrow  returned  with  the  dawning  of  morn. 

And  the  voice  in  mv  dreaming  ear  melted  away. 

CumpbelL 

GYPSIES'  GLEE. 
O  !  who  has  seen  the  miller's  w  ife  ? 
I,  I,  I  !  and  kindled  up  new  strife  ; 
A  shilling  from  her  palm  I  took 
Ere  on  the  cross  lines  I  could  look. 
Who,  who's  the  tanner's  daughter  seen  ? 
I,  I,  I,  in  quest  of  her  have  been, 
But.  as  the  tanner  was  within, 
*Twai  hard  to  'scape  him  in  whole  ikinA 


ItlNSTRJSL. 

From  ev'ry  place  condemned  to  roam, 
In  every  place  we  seek  a  home  ; 
Tin  M  branches  form  our  summer  roo% 
By  duck-grown  leavet  made  weather  jvflbof. 
In  sheltering  nooks  and  hollow  ways, 
We  cheerly  pass  our  winter  days  ; 
Come,  circle  round  the  gipsies'  fire, 
Our  songs,  our  stories  never  tire. 

Come,  stain  your  cheeks  with  nut  or  berry, 
You'll  find  the  gipsy's  life  is  merry. 


CUSHLAMACHREE. 
DEAR  Ei  in,  how  sweetly  thy  green  bosom  rises, 

An  emerald  set  in  the  ring  of  the  sea, 
Each  blade  of  thy  meadows  my  faithful  heart  prizes, 

Thou  queen  of  the  west,  the  world's  Cushlamachree 

Thy  gates  open  wide  to  the  poor  and  the  stranger  ; 

1  here  iiuiles  hospitality,  hearty  and  free  ; 
Thy  friendship  is  seen  in  the  moment  of  danger, 

And  the  wand'rer  is  welcomed  with  Cushlamachree 

Thy  sons  they  are  brave  ;  but,  the  battle  once  over, 
In  brotherly  peace  with  their  foes  they  agree. 

And  the  roseate  cheeks  of  thy  daughters  discover 
The  soul-speaking  blush  that  says  Cushlamachree. 

Then,  flourish  for  ever,  my  dear  native  Erin, 
While  sadly  I  wander,  an  exile  from  thee, 

And,  firm  as  thy  mountains,  no  injury  fearing, 
Mar  heaven  defind  its  own  Cushlamachree. 

C.  Phillipt. 


MINSTREL. 

COMIN*  THROUGH  THE  RYE. 

Gin  a  body  meet  a  body 

Comin'  through  the  rye, 
Gin  a  body  kiss  a  body 
Need  a  body  cry  ? 
Ilka  body  ha'  a  body, 
Ne*er  a  ane  hae  I ; 
But  a'  the  lads  they  lo'e  me, 
And  what  the  waur  am  I  i 

Gin  a  body  meet  a  body 

Cemin'  frae  the  well, 
Gin  a  body  kiss  a  body 

Need  a  body  tell  ? 
Ilka  body  has  a  body,  &c, 

Gin  a  body  meet  a  body 

Comin'  fra  the  town. 
Gin  a  body  kiss  a  body 

Need  a  body  frown. 
Ilka  Jenny  has  her  Jockey,  &e. 


BE  A  GOOD  BOY  AND  TAKE  CARE  OF 
YOURSELF. 
When  I  was  at  home,  with  my  father  and  mother, 
I  beat  the  old  couple,  and  Teddy,  my  brother, 
At  learning  I  mean ;  for  I  handled  the  spade, 
And  so  nately  I  followed  the  turf-cutting  trade. 
But  old  father  Murphy,  our  parish  director, 
He  O.QW  find  then  g-ave  roe  a  bit  of  a  lecture ; 


MINSTREL.  121 

"Arrah,  Barney,"  sap  he,  "  you're  a  frolicksome  elf, 
But  be  a  good  boy,  and  lake  care  of  yourself." 
"With  your  too  ral  lal  loo,  &c. 

My  Judy  I  lov'd,  and  oft  gave  her  a  kiss  ; 
"  Fie,  Barney,"  says  she,  but  ne'er  took  it  amiss : 
One  night  I  took  leave  ;  says  I, "  Judy,  I'm  off," 
But  heard,  as  I  thought,  in  the  closet,  a  cough  ; 
So  I  opened  the  door,  and  I  stared  like  a  pig, 
There  stood  old  father  Murphy,  without  hat  or  wig  ; 
"  Arrah,  father,"'  says  I,  "  you're  a  frolicksome  elf, 
But  be  a  good  boy,  and  take  care  of  yourself." 
With  your  too  ral  lal  loo,  &c. 

I  was  going,  when  old  father  Murphy  cried, li  stay, 
We'll  settle  this  matter,  I'll  tell  you  the  way, 
I'll  marry  you  both,  and  then,  Barney,  you  know—" 
*'  Thank'e  father,"  says  I,"  but  I'd  much  rather  go  ;" 
So  to  old  father  Murphy,  I  bade  a  good  night, 
And  to  Judy,  I  said,  what  you'll  own  was  quite  right, 
*  Arrah,  Judy,"  says  I,  "  you're  a  frolicksome  elf, 
Eut  I'll  be  a  good  boy  and  take  care  of  myself." 
With  my  too  ral  lal  loo,  &c. 


WHILE  THE  LADS  OF  THE  VILLAGE. 
While  the  lads  of  the  village  shall  merrily,  ah, 

Sound  their  tabors,  I\l  hand  thee  along, 
And  I  say  unto  thee  that  merrily,  ah, 

Thou  and  I  will  be  first  in  the  throng. 

While  the  lads  of  the  village,  &c. 


123  MINSTREL. 

Just  then, when  the  youth  who  last  year  won  the  dower, 

And  his  mate  shall  the  spoils  have  begun, 
When  the  gay  voice  of  gladness  resounds  from  each 
bo  Aver, 
And  thou  long'st  in  thy  heart  to  make  one. 
While  the  lads  of  the  village. 

Those  joys  that  are  harmless  what  mortal  can  blame  ? 

'Tis  my  maxim  that  youth  should  be  free  ; 
And,  to  prove  that  my  words  and  my  deeds  are  the 
same, 
Believe  thou  shalt  presently  see. 

While  the  lads  ojf  the  village,  &rc. 

Dibdin, 


'TWAS  YOU,  SIR. 
A  Catch. 

'Twas  you,  sir,  'twas  you,  sir, 

I  tell  you  nothing  new,  sir, 
'Twas  you  that  kissed  the  pretty  girl, 

'Twas  you,  sir,  you  ; 

'Tis  true,  sir,  'tis  true,  sir, 

You  look  so  very  blue,  sir, 
I'm  sure  you  kissed  the  pretty  girl, 

'Tis  true,  sir,  true  ; 

Oh,  sir,  no,  sir  ? 

How  can  you  wrong  me  so,  sir  ? 
I  did  not  kiss  the  pretty  girl- 
But  I  know  who. 

Murnington. 


MINSTREL.  lU 

UNDER  THE  GREENWOOD  TREE. 
Under  the  greenwood  tree, 
Who  loves  to  sit  with  ine, 
And  tune  his  merry  throat 
Unto  the  sweet  bird's  note, 
Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither ; 
Here  shall  he  see 
No  enemy 
But  winter  and  rough  weather. 

Who  doth  ambition  shun, 

And  loves  to  live  i'the  sun, 

Seeking  the  food  he  eats. 

And  pleased  with  whathe  geti, 
Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hither  ; 

Here  shall  he  see 

No  enemy 
But  winter  and  rough  weather. 

Shakspeare. 


SHE  SAYS  SHE  LO'ES  ME  BEST  OF  A* 
Sae  flaxen  were  her  ringlets, 

Her  eyebrows,  of* a  darker  hue, 
EX  witclringly  o'er-arehing 

Twa  Is  ■>'  bonnie  blue! 

Her  nailing  sae  wyling, 

Wad  make  a  wretch  forget  his  woe; 
What  {>■<  fesare,  what  treasure, 

Unto  these  rosy  lips  to  grow  ; 


124  MINSTREL 

Such  was  my  Chloris'  bonnie  face, 
When  first  her  bonnie  face  I  saw, 

And  aye  my  Chloris'  dearest  charm 
She  says  she  lo'es  me  best  of  a'. 

Like  harmony  her  motion  ; 

Her  pretty  ankle  is  a  spy, 
Betraying  fair  proportion, 

Wad  make  a  saint  forget  the  sky. 
Sae  warming,  sae  charming, 

Her  faultless  form,  and  gracefu'  air ; 
Ilk  feature— auld  Nature 

Declared  that  she  could  do  nae  mair : 
Her's  are  willing  chains  o'  love, 

By  conquering  beauty's  sov'reign  law ; 
And  aye  my  Chloris'  dearest  charm, 

She  says  she  lo'es  me#bsst  of  a'. 

Let  others  love  the  city, 

And  gaudy  shows  at  sunny-noon : 
Gie  me  the  lonely  valley, 

The  dewy  eve,  and  rising  moon  : 
Fair  beaming,  and  streaming, 

Her  silver  light  the  boughs  amang ; 
While  falling  recalling, 

The  am'rous  thrush  concludes  his  sang ; 
There,  dearest  Chloris,  wilt  thou  rove 

By  whimpering  bum  and  leafy  shaw  ; 
And  hear  my  vows  o'  truth  and  love, 

And  say  thou  lo'es  me  best  of  a'. 

Burn*. 


MINSTREL  125 

THE  DEAREST  SWEETEST  SPOT  IS  HOME. 

l\  -  wandered  through  that  Indian  land, 

Where  Nature  wears  her  richest  hue  ; 
I've  stood  upon  the  Grecian  strand. 

And  gazed  upon  the  waters  blue  : 
I've  stray'd  beneath  a  myrtle  grove, 

On  Arno's  banks,  when  day  has  set, 
And  heard  the  Italian's  song  of  love 

Come  softly  from  his  gondolet ; 
But  still,  though  far  and  wide  we  roam, 
The  sweetest,  dearest  spot,  is  home. 

The  gaudy  plants  of  tropic  skies, 

Though  bright  the  tints  in  which  they  bloom, 
Though  decked  in  Beauty's  proudest  dyes, 

Are  yet  divested  of  perfume, 
One  wild  rose  of  my  native  vale, 

The  jessamine  round  my  cottage  twined, 
That  waft  their  fragrance  on  the  gale, 
Have  charms  far  dearer  to  my  mind  : 
For  still,  though  far  and  wide  we  roam, 
The  sweetest,  dearest  spot,  is  home. 

J.  Sullivan. 


WHACK  FOR  O'SHAUGHNASHANE. 
Hail  to  our  chief  now  he's  wet  through  with  whiskey! 

Long  life  to  the  lady  come  from  the  salt  seas  ! 
Strike  up,  blind  harpers  !  hey  to  be  friskey I 

For  what  id  so  gay  a3  a  bag  full  of  fleas  ? 


125  MINSTREL. 

Crest  of  O'Shaughnashane ! 

That's  a  potatoe,  plain, 
Long  may  your  root  every  Irishman  know  ! 

Pats  long  have  stuck  to  it, 

Long  bid  good  luck  to  it ; 
"Whack  for  O'Shaughnashane !— tooly  whagg  ho ! 

Our's  is  an  esculent,  lusty  and  lasting, 

No  turnip,  or  other  weak  babe  of  the  ground  ; 
Waxy  or  mealy,  it  hinders  from  fasting 
Half  Erin's  inhabitants  all  the  year  round. 

Wants  the  soil  where  'tis  flung, 

Hog's,  cow's,  or  horses'  dung, 
Still  does  the  crest  of  O'Shaughnashane  grow  ; 

Shout  for  it,  Lister  men  ! 

Till  the  bogs  quake  again  ! 
Whack  for  O'Shaughnashane  I— tooley  whagg  ho ! 

Drink,  Paddies,  drink  !  to  the  lady  so  shining  ! 

While  flow 'ret  shall  open  and  bog-trotters  dig, 
So  long  may  the  sweet  rose  of  beauty  be  twining 
Around  the  potatoe  of  proud  Blarney-gig ! 

While  the  plant  vegetates, 

While  whiskey  re-creates. 
Wash  down  the  root  from  the  horns  that  o'erflow  ; 

Shake  your  shillelaghs,  boys  ! 

Schreeching  drunk,  scream  your  joys  ! 
Whack  for  O'Shaughnashane  !— tooley  whagg  ho ! 

Time  rolls  his  course ;— now  seems  in  haste, 
And  now  seems  slow— as  cooks  roll  paste  ; 


MINSTREL.  '27 

Rolling  out  tows  from  human  dust, 

Soon  to  be  broken— soon  as  crust. 

All  under  Time  to  ruin  falls, 

Like  Blarney-gigfs  now  moulder'd  walls. 

C.  Coleman* 


O,  WE'RE  A'  NODDIN. 

O,  we're  a'  noddin,  nid,  nid,  noddin, 
O,  we're  a'  noddin  at  our  house  at  hame. 
When  the  dame's  asleep,  and  the  good  man  fu' 
"When  lads  love  lasses,  and  lasses  love  so  true, 
Kate  sits  i'  the  neuk,  and  her  Jo  sits  by, 
And  the  moon  shines  bright  as  the  love  in  her  eye. 
And  they're  a'  noddin,  &c. 

And  how  d'ye,  kimmer  ?  and  how  d'ye,  dear  ? 
How  long  hae  ye  loved  me  ?— a  twalmonth  or  near  ; 
I  hae  Iov'dye  a  twalmonth,  dearer  than  life, 
And  e're  a  day  aulder,  I'se  mak'  ye  my  w  ife. 

And  be  ye  aye  noddin,  See. 

And  how  d'ye  kimmer  ?  and  how  d'ye  thrive  ? 
O'  siller  and  goud  I  ha  plenty  to  wive  ; 
Gie's  your  hand  then,  my  Jo,— O,  na,  na,  na, 
My  hand  it  was  promised  to  Willie  far  awa  ! 

And  we're  a'  noddin,  &c. 

Cats  like  milk  weel,  and  dogs  like  broo, 
Lads  like  lasses  weel,  and  lasses  lads  too. 

And  we're  a'  noddin,  &c. 


128  MINSTREL 

TOM  AND  JERRY. 
Au._ «  The  Tom  Cat." 
Tom  and  Jerry  sprees 

Ring  about  so  merry, 
Nought  is  known  to  please 
Like  "  Go  it,  Tom  and  Jerry  I 
Lalalla,lalla,  &c. 

Life'in  London  now, 

Yes,  to  tell  you  fairly, 
Is  to  breed  a  row, 

And  then  to  floor  a  Charley. 

Tom  in  squeezing  Nan, 
Chanced  to  tear  hei  garment, 

When  she  thus  began— 
«  There,  you  nasty  varment . 

Jerry  knelt  and  sighed, 

Love  for  love  to  barter 
When  the  charmer  cried— 

«  Now,  vat  are  you  arter  ?" 
Tom  would  kiss  the  dear, 

"  No,"  says  Nan, "  so  claws  off. 
Vat  the  devil's  here  ? 

Fellers,  keep  your  paws  off." 

But  it  would  not  do, 

Kiss  they  would  so  merry ; 

When  she  knocked  down  Tom, 
And  then  she  lathered  Jerry. 

La  lal,  &c 


Upton 


M 


MINSTREL.  1J9 

WILLIAM  THE  ri\AVE. 

By  the  side  of  yon  streamlet  there  grows  a  green  willow, 

'That  |  |  [face  and  kisses  eaeh  wave, 

Beneath  who*  .  vi»h  the  sod  for  his  pillow, 

In  peace  rests  the  spirit  of  William  the  Brave. 

.  there  o*er  his  grave  does  no  stone  tell  his  story* 

No  monument  glitters  in  splendid  array  ; 
Oh,  no  !  on  the  heavt  is  recorded  his  glory, 

On  love's  holy  altar  'twill  never  decay. 

There  lonely  at  evening,  when  day  is  declining, 

Sweet  Mary  in  sorrow  oft  hies  to  his  grave, 
And  moistens  the  flowers,  in  beauty  entwining. 

With  tears  to  the  memory  of  Wilfiam  the  Brave. 
'Tis  the  test  of  affection,  far  sweeter  appearing, 

Than  all  the  gay  glitter  that  custom  e'er  gave : 
Ah,  Heaven  !  'tis  a  tribute,  and  doubly  endearing 

When  shed  by  fond  love  o'er  the  tomb  of  the  brave. 
J.  G.  Drake. 


THE  TROUBADOUR. 
Glowing  with  love,  on  fire  for  fame, 

A  Troubadour,  that  hated  sorrow, 
Beneath  his  lady's  window  came, 

And  thus  he  sung  his  last  good-morrow  : 
u  My  arm  it  is  my  country's  light, 

My  heart  is  in  my  true-love's  bower ; 
Gaily  for  love  and  fame  to  tight, 

Befits  the  gallant  Troubadour.'' 
1 


ISO  MINSTREL. 

And  while  he  march  *d,  with  helm  on  head 

And  harp  in  hand,  the  descant  rung ; 
Ai  faithful  to  his  favourite  maid, 

The  minstrel-burthen  still  he  sung  ; 
M  My  arm  it  is  my  country's  right, 

My  heail  is  in  my  lady's  bower  ; 
Resolved  for  love  and  fame  to  fight, 

I  come,  a  gallant  Troubadour." 

Even  when  the  battle-roar  was  deep, 

With  dauntless  heart  he  hew'd  his  way, 
Mid  splintering  lance  and  falchion-sweep, 

And  still  was  heard  his  warrior  lay ; 
**  My  life  it  is  my  country's  right, 

My  heart  is  in  my  lady's  bower ; 
For  love  to  die,  for  fame  to  fight, 

Becomes  the  valiant  Troubadour." 

Ala* !  upon  the  bloody  field 

He  fell  beneath  the  foemen"s  glaive, 
But  still,  reclining  on  his  shield, 

Expiring  sung  the  exulting  stave  : 
M  My  life  it  is  my  country's  right, 

My  heart  is  in  my  lady's  bower  ; 
For  love  and  fame  to  fall  in  fight 

Becomes  the  valiant  Troubadour."        W,  Scot 


HULL'S  VICTORY. 
O'er  the  trident  of  Neptune  Britannia  had  boasted 

Her  flag  long  triumphantly  flew, 
Her  fleet  undisturb'd  round  America  coasted, 

Till  Hull  taught  the  foe  what  our  seamen  could  di] 


MINSTREL.  131 

I  <  t  the  trumpet  of  fame  tell  the  story, 
And  our  tors  give  to  honour  and  glory, 

Hark  !  hark  !  how  the  cannon  like  thunder  does  rattle. 

Our  hero's  quite  cool  in  the  uproar  of  battle. 

See  the  bold  Constitution  the  Guerriere  o'ertaking, 

"While  seas  from  her  fury  divide, 
The  all  conquering  foe,  boys,  our  thunder  is  raking, 
See  her  mizen-mast  falls  in  the  deep  o'er  her  side; 
I  hulk  now  our  bullets  are  boring, 
The  blood  from  her  scuppers  is  pouring, 
See  !  see  !  she's  aboard,  shall  we  yield  boys  ?  no  never, 
"We'll  light  for  our  rights  on  the  ocean  for  ever. 

Brave  Hull  gave  the  orders  for  boarding,  but  wonder, 
By  the  board,  main  and  foremast  both  go, 

a  proclaims  she  submits  to  our  thunder, 
Which  drowns  the  vain  boast  of  our  now  humble  foe. 
Huzza  now  the  conquest  proclaiming, 
Our  tan  see  the  Guerriere  lhiming, 
See  !  see  !  as  she  burns  sinks  the  battle's  commotion, 
She  blows  up,  she  scatters  her  hull  on  the  ocean. 

"With  equal  force  let  Britannia  send  out  her  whole  navy,     f 

Our  seamen  in  bondage  to  drag, 
Our  heroes  will  send  them  express  to  old  Davy, 
Or  forfeit  their  lives  in  defence  of  their  flag. 
Let  the  trumpet  of  fame  tell  the  story, 
And  our  tars  give  to  honour  and  glory  ; 
Death  !  death  !  they'll  prefer,  e'er  from  honour  they 

sever. 
Then  glory  to  Hull  and  our  navy  forever. 


MINSTREL. 


WHEN  I  GAZ'D  ON  A  BEAUTIFUL  FACE. 

When  I  gaz'd  on  a  beautiful  face, 

Or  a  form  which  my  fancy  approv?d  ; 
I  was  pleas'd  with  its  sweetness  and  grace, 

And  falsely  btliev'd  that  I  lov'd  : 
Eut  my  heart,  though  it  strove  to  deceive, 

The  injustice  it  would  not  allow, 
I  could  look,  I  could  like,  I  could  leave, 

But  I  never  could  love  till  now, 
Ah  !  never,  no  never,  oh,  never,  no  never, 

I  never  could  love  till  now. 

Yet,  though  I  from  others  could  reve, 

Now  harbour  no  doubt  of  my  truth  ; 
Those  flames  were  not  kindled  by  love. 

They  were  kindled  by  folly  and  youth  : 
But  no  longer  of  reason  bereft, 

On  your  hand,  that  pure  altar  I  vow  ; 
Tho'  I've  look'd,  and  have  lik'd  and  have  left, 

That  I  never  have  lov'd  till  now. 
Ah  1  never,  no  never,  &:c.  M.  G.  Lerwi*\ 


o:  NAXOS. 

When  I  left  thy  sho-^s.  O  !  Nasos, 

Not  a  tear  in  sorrow  fell, 
Not  a  sigh  in  Falter'd  accent, 

Spoke  my  bosom's  struggling  swell, 


MINSTREL.  13S 

Yet  my  heart  sunk  chill  'within  me, 

And  I  wav'd  a  hand  as  cold  : 
When  I  thought  thy  shores  O  !  Naxos, 

I  should  never  more  behold. 

Still  the  blue  wave  danc'd  around  us, 

'  Midst  the  sun-beams  jocund  smile, 
Still  the  air  breath'd  balmy  summer, 

Wafted  from  that  happy  Isle  ; 
When  some  hand  the  strain  awaking 

Oi'  my  home  and  native  shore, 
Then  'twas  first  I  wept,  O  !  Naxos, 

That  I  ne'er  should  see  thee  more.  Byron, 


BLACK  EY'D  SUSAN. 
All  in  the  Downs  the  fleet  lay  moor'd, 
The  streamers  waving-  in  the  wind, 
When  black  ey'd  Susan  came  on  board  ! 
Oh  !  where  shall  I  my  true  love  find  ? 
"  Tell  me,  ye  jovial  sailors,  tell  me  true, 
If  my  sweet  William  sails  among  your  crew  ?" 

William,  who  high  upon  the  yard, 

RoekM  with  the  billows  to  and  fro, 
Soon  as  her  well  known  voice  he  heard, 
He  sigh'd  and  cast  his  eyes  below  : 
The  cord  slides  s  wiftly  thro'  his  glowing  hands, 
And  quick  as  lightning  on  the  deck  he  stands. 

So  the  sweet  lark,  high  pois'd  in  air, 
Shuts  close  his  pinions  to  bis  breast, 


134  MINSTREL. 

(If  chance  his  mate's  shrill  voice  to  hear) 
And  drops  at  once  into  her  nest : 
The  noblest  captain  in  the  British  fleet 
Might  envy  William's  lips  those  kisses  sweet. 

O  Susan,  Susan,  lovely  dear ! 

My  vows  shall  ever  true  remain, 
Let  me  kiss  off' that  falling  tear, 
We  only  part  to  meet  again, 
Change  as  ye  list,  ye  winds,  my  heart  shall  he 
The  faithful  compass  that  still  points  to  thee* 

Believe  not  what  the  landsmen  say, 
Who  tempt  with  doubts  thy  constant  mind  ; 

They'll  tell  thee  sailors  when  away, 
In  ev'ry  port  a  mistress  find  ; 
Yes,  yes,  believe  them  when  they  tell  thee  so, 
For  thou  art  present  wheresoe'er  I  go  : 

If  to  fair  India's  coast  we  sail, 

Thy  eyes  are  seen  in  diamonds  bright, 
Thy  breath  is  Afric's  spicy  gale, 
Thy  skin  is  ivory  so  white  : 
Thus  every  beauteous  object  that  I  view, 
Wakes  in  my  soul  some  eharma  of  lovely  Sue. 

Tho'  battles  call  me  from  thy  arms, 
Let  not  my  pretty  Susan  mourn, 
Tho'  cannons  roar,  yet  safe  from  harms 
WTilliam  shall  to  his  dear  return. 
Love  turns  aside  the  balls  that  round  me  fly, 
Lest  precious  tears  should  drop  from  Susan's  eye. 


MINSTREL  135 

The  boatswain  gave  the  dreadful  word, 
The  sails  theiv  swelling  bosom  spread, 
No  longer  must  she  stay  on  board  ; 

They  kiss'd  ;  she  sitrh'd  ;  he  hung  his  head  : 

nihg  boot  unwilling  rows  to  land, 

Aditu  I  s'ic  cries  ;  and  wav'd  her  lily  hand.       Gey. 


THE  BROWN"  JUG. 
Dear  Tom,  this  brown  jug  that  now  foams  with  mild 

ale, 
Out  of  which  T  will  drink  to  sweet  Nan  of  the  Vale, 
Was  once  Toby  Philpot,  a  thirsty  old  soul, 
As  e're  drank  a  bottle,  or  fathom'd  a  bowl ; 
In  boozing  about  'twas  his  pride  to  excel, 
And  among  jolly  topers  he  bore  off  the  bell. 

It  chane'd  as  in  dog-days  he  sat  at  his  ease, 
In  hi<  llow'r-woven  arbor  as  gay  a:  you  please  ; 
With  a  friend  and  a  pipe  puffing  sorrow  away, 
And  with  honest  old  stingo,  was  soaking  hi9  clay  ; 
Hi/ breath  doors  of  life  on  a  sudden  were  shut, 
And  he  died  full  as  big  as  a  Dorchester  butt. 

His  body  when  long  in  the  ground  it  had  lain, 

And  time  into  clay  had  dissolved  it  again, 

A  potter  found  out  in  a  covert  so  %nug 

And  with  part  of  fat  Toby,  he  made  thu  brown  jug- ; 

Now  sacred  to  friendship,  to  mirth  and  miM  ale, 

60  here's  to  my  lovely  sweet  N'&u  oi'it^  V*io 

Vtsmkct. 


IW  MINSTREL. 

ERE  AROUND  THE  HUGE  O  V". 
Ere  around  the  huge  oak  that  o'enhadows  yoa  mill, 

The  fond  ivy  had  dar'd  V 
Ere  the  church  was  a  ruin  that  nods  on  the  hill, 
Or  a  rook  built  his  nest  in  the  pine. 

I  could  trace  back  the  time,  to  a  far  distant  date, 
Since  my  forefathers'  toil'd  in  the  field  ; 

And  the  farm  I  now  hold  on  your  honor's  estcte, 
Is  the  same  that  my  forefathers1  tili'd. 

He  dying,  bequeath'd  to  his  son  a  good  name, 

Which  unsullied,  descended  to  me  ; 
For  my  child  I'll  preserve  it.  unblemished  «rit 

And  it  still  from  a  spot  shall  be  free.  0' Kecfe. 


O  WHISTLE. 

O  Whistle  and  111  come  to  you  my  lad, 

O  whistle  and  I'll  come  to  you  my  lad  : 

Though  father  and  mither  and  a'  should  gae  mad, 

O  whistle  and  I'll  come  to  you  my  lad. 
Though  father  and  mither  and  a'  should  gaemad, 
O  whistle  and  I'll  coma  to  you  ray  lad. 

But  wanly  tent  when  ye  come  to  court  me, 
And  come  nae  unless  the  back-yett  be  ajee  ; 
Syne  up  the  back-style  and  let  nae  body  see, 
And  come  as  ye  were  nae  comin'  to  me. 
O  whistle.  &e. 

A;  kirk,  or  at  market  when  e'er  ye  meet  me, 
Gang  by  me  as  though  that  ye  car'd  nae  a  flee, 


MINSTREL. 

I  ne  a  blink  o'  your  bonny  black  e'e, 
Yet  look  as  ye  were  nae  lookin'  at  rae. 
O  whistle,  &c. 

nd  protest  that  ye  care  nae  forme, 
And  whyl  s  ye  may  lightly  my  beauty  a  wee, 
But  court  nae  anither,  tho' jokin'  ye  be, 

that  she  whyle  your  fancy  frae  me. 
O  whistle,  ^c. 


PATRICK  AND  NORAH. 
The  meadows  look  cheerful,  the  birds  sweetly  sing", 
So  gaily  they  caiol  the  praises  of  spring  ; 
:  rejoices,  poor  Koran  shall  mourn, 

P.itrick  again  shall  return. 

\  hide  your  gay  charm<, 
Nor  lure  her  dear  Patrick  from  Norah's  fond  arms  ! 

!i  satins  and  ribbons,  and  laces  are  fine, 
They  hide  not  a  heart  with  such  feelings  as  mine. 


MORNING'S  DAWK. 
Af  morning's  (Lawn,  the  hunters  rise, 

To  view  the  beauty  of  the  skies, 
The  hounds  proclaim  returning  day, 

The  huntsmen  cry.  hark,  hark  away  ! 
The  hounds  proclaim  returning  day  ! 
The  huntsmen  erj  .  hark,  hark  away  I 

Hark,  hark,  hark  away  ! 


138  MINSTREL 

The  earths  are  stopp'd,  the  hounds  well  thro\ 
The  earths  are  stopp'd,  the  hounds  well  thro', 

In  hopes  to  hear  sweet  tally  ho  ! 
Tally  ho  !  tally  ho!  tally  ho'!  ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  ho! 
The  earths  are  "stopp'd,  the  hounds  well  thro1, 

In  hopes  to  hear  sweet  tally  ho  ! 

To  rural  hark,  the  huntsmen  cry, 

A  certain  sign,  for  sportsmen's  joy  ; 
Hark  forward— next,  salutes  our  ear, 

A  cheering*  proof  the  fox  is  near. 
The  earths  are  stopp'd,  ccc. 

Now  swift  we  course,  o'er  hill  and  dale, 
O'er  hedge  and  ditch,  o'er  gate  or  rail ; 

Our  sport  with  rapture  we  persue, 
Until  sly  reynard's  brush  we  view. 
The  earths  are  stopp'd,  &:c 


HARVEST  MORNING. 

"When  the  rosy  morn  appearing-, 
Paints  with  gold  the  verdant  lawn, 

Bees  on  banks  of  thyme  disporting, 
Sip  the  sweets  and  hail  the  dawn. 

Warbling  birds  the  day  proclaiming, 
Carol  sweet  the  lively  strain, 

They  forsake  their  leafy  dwelling, 
To  secure  the  golden  grain. 

See  Content,  the  humble  gleaner 
Takes  the  scatter'd  ears  that  full ; 

Nature,  all  her  children  viewing, 
Kindly  bounteous  cares  foi  i.li. 


MINSTREL. 

KATHLEEN. 
Sleep  on,  sleep  on,  my  Kathleen  dear, 

May  peace  possess  thy  breast ; 
Yet  doest  thou  dream  thy  true-love's  near, 

Depriv'd  of  peace  and  rest  ? 

The  birds  sing  sweet,  the  morning  breaks, 

Those  joys  are  none  to  me  ; 
Though  sleep  is  fled,  poor  Dermot  wakes, 

To  none  but  love  and  thee  ! 


A  GLASS  IS  GOOD. 
A  glass  is  good  and  a  hi>>s  is  good. 

And  a  pipe  to  smoke  in  cold  weather; 
The  world  is  good,  and  the  people  are  good, 

And  we're  all  good  fellows  together. 

A  bottle  it  is  a  very  good  thing. 
With  a  good  deal  of  good  wine  in  it ; 

A  song  is  good,  when  a  body  can  sing, 
And  to  finish,  we  must  begin  it. 

A  table  is  good,  when  spread  with  good  cheer, 
And  good  company  sitting  round  it ; 

When  a  good  way  off,  we're  not  very  near, 
And  for  sorrow  the  devil  confound  it. 

A  friend  is  good,  when  you're  out  of  good  luck, 

For  that's  a  good  time  to  try  him, 
For  a  justice  good,  the  haunch  of  a  buck, 

With  such  a  good  present  }ou  buy  him. 


140  MINSTREL. 

A  fine  old  woman  is  good  when*  she's  dead, 
A  vogue  very  good  for  good  hanging, 

A  fool  is  good  by  the  nose  to  he  led, 
My  good  song  deserves  a  good  banging. 


THIS  WORLD  IS  ALL   A  FLEETING  SHOW. 
This  world  is  all  a  fleeting  show, 

For  man's  illusion  given  • 
The  smiles  of  Joy,  the  tears  of  Wo, 
Deceitful  shine,  deceitful  flow— 

There's  nothing  true  but  Heaven  .' 

And  false  the  light  on  Glory's  plume, 

As  fading  hues  of  even  ; 
And  Love,  and  Hope,  and  Beauty's  bloom, 
Are  blossoms  gathered  for  the  tomb — 

There's  nothing  bright  but  Heaven  I 

Poor  wanderers  of  a  stormy  day, 

From  wave  to  wave  we're  driven, 
And  Fancy's  flash,  and  Reason's  ray, 
Serve  but  to  light  the  troubled  way — 
There's  nothing  calm  but  Heaven  ! 

T.  Moore. 


LET  US  ALL  BE  UNHAPPY. 
Oh  !  come  on  some  cold  rainy  day, 

WThen  the  birds  cannot  show  a  dry  feather, 
Bring  your  sighs  and  your  tears  Granny  Gray  : 

Let  us  all  be  unhappy  together. 


MIVSTREL.  14 

Bring  the  heart-piercing  shoots  from  your  corn, 
Bring  all  the  dull  news  you  can  gather, 

Bring  Dick  Dismal,  who  looks  so  forlorn : 
Lef  n  s  all  be  unhappy  together. 

We'll  talk  about  mildews  and  blights, 
Occasion'd  by  badness  of  weather  ; 

About  horrible  dreams  and  dull  nights  ; 
And  we'il  all  be  unhappy  together. 

And  we'll  talk  of  the  ghost  without  head, 
That  kiss'd  mother  Mumph  in  the  cellar, 

That  frighten 'd  the  barber's  boy  dead, 
And  we'll  all  be  unhappy  together. 

Let  us  fancy  fresh  duty  on  snuif, 
Cats,  lap-dogs,  or  monkeys  so  clever  ; 

Let's  suppose  that  there's  taxes  enough 
To  make  us  all  unhappy  together. 

Let  us  talk  of  invasion  and  blood, 
Of  devils,  black,  blue,  w  hite  and  yellow, 

Noah's  ark,  Noah's  self,  and  the  flood  : 
Let  us  all  be  unhappy  together. 

Let  us  mourn  for  those  days  that  are  past, 
When  our  hearts  were  as  light  as  a  feather ; 

Let's  suppose  that  this  day  is  our  last ; 
Let  us  all  be  unhappy  together. 

And  I  charge  you,  my  dear  Granny  Gray, 
Should  you  meet  Susan  Sad,  that  you  tell  her, 

The  keg's  burst,  the  gin's  run  away  ; 
And  we're  all  here  unhappy  together. 


142  MINSTREL. 

TO  THY  GREEN  FIELDS. 
To  thy  green  fields,  sweet  Erin,  I've  long  bade  adieu, 
But  my  heart's  fondest  blessing  remains  still  with  yon; 
And  though  ocean's  dark  billows  between  us  may  roll, 
Thou  shalt  still  be  the  pride  and  the  queen  of  my  soul; 
From  my  dear  native  shore  I  am  borne  by  the  wave  ; 
Then  farewell  to  thee,  Erin,  thou  land  of  the  brave. 

To  the  shrine  of  true  honour  thy  children  all  bend, 
To  adversity  ever  assistance  they  lend  ; 
And  though  doom'd  in  a  far  distant  climate  to  toil, 
A  true  son  of  green  Erin  forgets  not  his  soil : 
Hcpeing  still,  that  once  more  borne  along  by  the  wave, 
He  shall  welcome  thee,  Erin,  thou  land  of  the  brave. 


CROOS-KEEN  LAWN. 

Let  the  farmer  praise  his  grounds, 
As  the  huntsman  does  his  hounds. 

And  the  shepherd  his  sweet  scented  lawn, 
While  I  more  blest  than  they, 
Spend  each  happy  night  and  day 
With  my  smiling  little  Croos-keen  lawn,  lawn,lawn, 
Oh,  my  smiling  little  Croos-keen  lawn. 
Leante  ruma  Croos-keen 
Sleante  gar  ma  voor  men  neen 
Agus  grama ehree  ma  cooleen  ban,  ban,  ban, 
Agus  gramachree  ma  cooleen  ban. 

In  court  with  manly  grace, 
Should  Sir  Toby  plade  his  case, 


MIN'STREL.  143 

And  the  merits  of  his  cause  make  known, 
Without  his  cheerful  glass. 
He'd  be  stupid  as  an  ass. 

So  he  takes  a  little  Croos-keen  lawn. 
Leante  ruma,  &c. 

Then  fill  your  glasses  high, 
Let's  not  part  with  lips  so  dry, 

Though  the  lark  should  proclaim  it  is  dawn. 
But  if  we  can't  remain, 
May  we  shortly  meet  again, 

To  fill  another  Croo&Jceen  lawn. 

Leante,  ruma,  &c. 

And  when  grim  death  appeal's, 
After  few  but  happy  years. 

And  tells  me  my  glass  it  is  run,  run,  run, 
I'll  say,  begone  you  slave, 
For  great  Bacchus  gives  me  lave 

Just  to  till  another  Croos-keen  lawn,  lawn,  lawn. 
Leante,  ruma,  &c. 


THE  TWIG  OF  SHELALY. 
Malrooney's  my  name,  I'm  a  comical  boy, 
A  tight  little  lad  at  shelaly  ; 
St.  Paddy  with  whiskey  he  suckled  me,  joy, 
Among  the  sweet  bogs  of  Kelaly  ! 
The  world  I  began  with  the  prospect  so  fair, 
My  dad  was  worth  nothing,  and  I  was  his  heir; 
So  all  my  estate  was  a  heart  free  from  care, 
And  a  tight  little  twig  of  shelaly. 


144  MINSTREL 

"  Turn  captain,"  cried  dad,"  and  if  kilt  in  th'  strife, 

Success  and  long  life  to  Shelaly  ! 

Your  fortune  is  made  all  the  rest  of  youv;life, 

As  sure  as  there's  bogs  in  Kelaly." 

But  thinks  I,  spite  of  what  fame  and  glory  bequeath, 

How  conceited  I'd  look  in  a  fine  laurel  wreath, 

Wi'  my  head  in  my  mouth  to  stand  picking  my  teeth, 

Wi'  a  tight  little  twig  of  shelaly. 

Yet  firmly  both  Ireland  and  England  I'll  aid, 

The  lands  of  oak  stick,  and  shelaly  ; 

For  now  these  two  sisters  are  man  and  wife  made, 

As  sure  as  there's  bogs  in  Kelaly. 

I'll  still  for  their  friends  have  a  heart  warm  and  true, 

To  their  foes  give  my  hand,  for  what  else  can  I  do  ? 

Yes,  I'll  give  'em  my  hand— but,  along  wi'  it  too, 

A  tight  little  twig  of  shelaly. 


CEASE,  OH !  CEASE  TO  TEMPT. 
Cease,  oh !  cease  to  tempt  my  tender  heart  to  love, 
It  never,  never  can  so  wild  a  flame  approvje  ; 
All  its  joys,  and  pains,  to  others  I  resign, 
But  be  the  vacant  heart,  the  careless  bosom  mine. 
Then  cease,  oh!  cease  to  tempt  my  tender  heart  to  love, 
It  never  can  so  wild  a  flame  approve. 
Say,  oh !  say  no  more  that  lovers'  pains  are  sweet ! 
I  never,  never  can  believe  the  fond  deceit* 
Thou  lov'st  the  wounded  heart, 

I  love  to  wander  free  ; 
So,  keep  thou  Cupid's  dart, 
And  leave  hii  wings  for  me.  T.  Moore 


MINSTREL. 

HIE  WHIP-POOR-WILL. 
I  if  son  had  descended  beneath  the  green  wave, 
I  he  <l<\v  drops  of  even  the  wild  flowers  lave. 
While  the  gentle  queen  of  night  shines  on  yonder  rip- 
pling rill, 
I'll  listen  to  thy  strains,  oh  !  lonely  Whip-poor-will. 
No  more  sliall  the  poet  be  proud  of  his  lay  ; 
Apollo  shall  yield  to  the  ruuse  of  the  spray): 
No  tabor  of  the  plains,  no  music  of  the  hill, 
Can  equal  thy  strains,  oh  !  lonely  Whip-poor-will. 
The  robin  may  sing  his  soft  sonnet  of  love, 
And  Philomel  warble  her  woes  lo  the  grove, 
While  the  soft  and  tender  lay  does  the  soul  with  rap- 
ture fill, 
It  can  ne'er  be  compared  to  the  lonely  Whip-poor-will. 
In  life's  rugged  path  if  few  roses  we  find, 
Should  hope  prove  delusive,  and  fortune  unkind, 
Should  the  fickle   goddess  frown,  I  could  meet  her 

with  a  smile, 
And  listen  to  thy  strains,  oh  !  lonely  Whip-poor-will. 
No  attractions  has  honour  or  riches  for  me, 
I  would  part  with  them  all  fur  a  brook  or  and  tree— - 
E'en  a  sceptre  Ed  resign  for  a  ramble  on  the  hill, 
And  one  tender  lay  from  the  plaintive  Whip-poor**  ill 
Not  the  wealth  of  Potosi  should  tempt  me  to  rove 
From  my  grotto,  my  streamlet,  my  cascade  and  grnv.  , 
While  contentment  still  endears  the  sweet  bank-,  of  the 

hill, 
\  nd  pleasure's  in  thy  strains, 
Vol.  J.  K 


I4fi  MINSTREL. 

PADDY'S  WEDDING. 
Sure  won't  you  hear,  what  roaring  cheer 

Was  spread  at  Paddy's  wedding,  O  I 
And  how  so  gay  they  spent  the  day, 

From  churching  to  the  bedding,  O  ! 
First  book  in  hand  came  Father  Quipes, 

With  the  bride's  dadda,  the  baily,  O  I 
While  the  chanter  with  his  merry  pipes, 
Struck  up  a  lilt  so  gaily,  O ! 
The  moment  Father  Quipes  heard  there  was  a  wed- 
ding on  the  carpet,  he  went  to  Peter  O'Reily  and  told 
him  the  whole  affair,  who  thrust  his  arm  up  the  chim- 
ney, and  pulled  down  his  pipes,  and  squeezed  then* 
under  his  arm,  and  played  a  neat  little  bit  of  a 

Tid-re-i,  Tid-re-i,  and  Tid-re-id-re-i-de,  O  ! 

Now  there  was  Mat,  and  sturdy  Pat, 

And  merry  Morgan  Murphy,  O  I 
And  Murdoch  Maggs,  and  Turloch  Skeggs, 

M'Laughlin,  and  Dick  Durphy,  O  I 
And  then  the  girls  rigg'd  out  in  whites, 

Led  on  by  dad  O'Reily,  O  ! 
All  jigging  as  the  merry  pipes 
Struck  up  a  lilt  so  gaily,  O  ! 
By  the  powers  it  would  have  done  your  heart  good 
to  see  the  dojs  and  girls  hopping  over  the  gutters,  two 
by  two  in  couples,  one  after  another,  while  the  piper 
was  jogging  on  before,  playing  a  little  bit  of  a 

Tid-re-i,  &C» 

When  Pat  v.as  asked,  if  his  love  wou'd  last, 
The  ehancel  echo'd  with  laughter,  O ! 


MINSTREL.  147 

By  my  soul,  says  Pat,  you  may  well  say  that, 

To  the  end  of  the  world  and  after,  O  ! 
When  tenderly  her  hand  he  gripes, 

And  kisses  her  genteel y,  O  ! 
While  all  in  tune  the  merry  pipes, 
Struck  up  a  lilt  so  gaily,  O  ! 
When  the  ceremony  was  over,  and  Father  Qui  pes 
told  the  bride  that  she  was  no  longer  Miss  Kitty  O'Don- 
avan,  but  she  was  Mrs.  Paddy  O'Rafterty.  to  be  sure 
he  did'nt  take  bold  of  her  by  the  back  of  the  neck,  and 
gave  her  such  a  kiss,  that  when  he  took  his  lips  away, 
you  might  have  heard  it  all  ovt  r  the  chapel :  whilst  the 
toys  and  girls,  s<*  ing  so  nate  an  example  before  them, 
all  began— and  the  piper  who  was  seated  near  the  com* 
munion  table,  kept  time  with  his— Tid-re-i,  &c, 
Then  a  roaring  set  at  dinner  were  met, 

Sofrolicksome  and  frisky,  O  ! 
Potatoes  galore,  a  skirraig  or  more, 

With  a  flowing  madder  of  whiskey,  O ! 
Then  round  to  be  sure  did'nt  go  the  swipes, 

At  the  bride's  expense  so  gaily.  O  ? 
And  still,  as  they  glutted,  the  mem-  pipes, 
Struck  up  a  lilt  so  gaiiy,  O  ! 
For  Pat,  d'ye  see,  was  n  solved  to  do  the  thing  in  a 
jonteel  way, so  he  ordered  in  three  large  bowls  of  pra- 
toes,  and  a  dish  fall  of  red  herrings  ;  and  by  the  pow- 
ers, the  beys  and  girls  were  so  hungry,  that  while  they 
were  mastificating  the  pratoes,  their  jaws  went  faster 
lhan  the  pipers  tlbow,  who  was  seated  in  a  comer 
playing  a  little  bit  of  a— Tid-re-i,  £cc. 

And  then  at  night,  O  what  delight ; 

To  seethtm  all  capering  and  prancing,  O  I 
\n  op"ra  or  ball  was  nothing  at  alt, 

<'<>ijipared  to  the  style  of  their  dancing,  0  ! 


J  48  MINSTREL. 

And  then  to  see  old  Father  Quip 
Beat  time  with  his  sbelalagh,  O  ! 

While  the  chanter  with  his  merry  pipes 
Struck  up  a  lilt  so  gaily,  O  ! 
By  the  powers  of  mud.  if  he  happened  to  put  his 
thumb  on  the  place  where  his  little  finger  should  be, 
to  be  sure  Paddy  did'nt  jump  up  from  the  throne  of 
turf  where  he  Avas  sitting  and  gave  him  such  a 
poult  over  the  place  where  he  took  his  snuff,  that  he 
knocked  him  clean  into  the  mud—'  There's  a  suit  of 
brown  for  you,'  says  he,  '  lie  there  you  thief  of  the 
world,  til!  the  cows  come  home  :  ami  let  it  learn  you 
all  the  days  of  your  life,  and  forever  after,  if  you  die 
to-morrow ,  that  whenever  you  come  to  a  gentleman's 
wedding-,  his  funeral,  or  any  such  merry-making  mat- 
ter, not  to  be  playing  any  of  your  damn'd  cantibks, 
nothing  more  or  less,  than  the  neat  little  bit  of  a— 
fid-re-i,  &c.' 

And  now-  the  knot  so  soaky  are  got, 

They'll  go  to  sleep  without  rocking,  O  .' 
While  brideinaids  fair,  so  gravely  prepare 

For  throwing  of  the  stocking,  O  ! 
And  then  to  be  sure  went  round  the  swipes, 

At  the  bride's  expense  so  freely,  O  '. 
While  to  w  ish  them  good  night  the  mem  pipes, 
Struck  up  a  lilt  so  gaily,  O  ! 
So  when  the  bride  had  detarmined  to  go  to  bed,  Pad- 
dy took  the  candle  and  lit  them  all  to  the  door,  and 
Father  Quipes,  w  ho  had  been  putting  too  much  whis- 
key to  his  water,  insisted  on  dancing  home  with  Miss 
Judy  O'Dougharty  ;  so  the  piper  got  his  bags  in  order, 
and  "aw  ay  they  all  went,  capering  to  a  neat  little  bit  of  j 
a-Tid-re-i,  &c.  Dibdin, 


MINSTREL. 

(I HUE  WE  MEET  TOO  SOON  TO  PART 

Here  we  meet  too  soon  to  part, 
Hero  to  leave  will  raise  a  smart, 
Here  I'll  press  thee  to  my  heart,     ^ 

Wheiv  none  have  place  above  thee  ; 
Here  I'll,  vow  to  love  thee  well, 
Could  but  words  unseal  the  spell, 
Had  but  language  strength  to  tell, 

l1d  say  how  much  1  love  thee. 
Hire  we  meet,  &cc. 

Here  the  rose  that  decks  thy  door, 
Here  the  thorn  that  spreads  thy  bower, 
Here  the  willow  on  the  moor, 

The  birds  at  rest  above  thee  ; 
Had  they  sight  of  life  to  see, 
Sense  of  soul  like  thee  and  me, 
Soon  might  each  a  witness  be — 

How  dotingly  I  love  thee. 

Here  we  meet,  &c.  T.  Moore. 


THE  SOLDIER  TIRED. 

The  soldier  tired  of  war's  alarms, 
Forswears  the  clang  of  hostile  arms, 
And  seoms  the  sptar  and  shield  ; 
But  if  the  brazen  trumpet  sound, 
He  burns  with  conquests  to  be  crown'd, 

Vad  dares  rgain  the  field.  Am* 


MINSTREL. 

For  exercise,  and  air, 
To  the  fields  I  repair, 
With  spirits  unclouded  and  light  ; 
The  blisses  I  find 

No  sting-  leaves  behind, 

But  health  and  diversion  unite,  D.  .       .   „ 

HickerstoQ- 


MILK,  MY  PRETTY  MAIDS,  BELOW. 

At  dawn  of  day,  when  other  folks 

In  slumber  drown  their  senses. 
We  milkmen  sing:,  and  crack,  and  joke, 

Scale  styles  and  such-like  fences : 
But  when  from  milking;  home  we're  bound; 

A  sight  more  pleasing-  than  a  show, 
The  rosy  lasses  greet  the  sound 

Of  milk,  my  pretty  maids,  below. 
Milk  my  pretty  maids,  &c. 

3Tis  milkman  here,  and  milkman  there. 

Lord,  how  these  wenches  tease  me  ! 
I'm  coming,  love,  how  much,  my  fair 

Cries  I.— There  now  be  easy  : 
So  what  with  toying  now  and  then, 

And  kissing,  too,  as  on  I  go  ; 
I  scarce  have  time,  like  other  men, 

To  cry— "  Milk,  my  pretty  maids  below."* 
Milk,  my  pretty  maids,  &c. 

Though  twice  a-day  I  pay  my  court 
Tg  tUose  that  come  to  meet  me, 


MINSTREL. 

l  pU  ase  them  all,  and  that's  your  sort, 
There's  none  can  ever  beat  me  ; 

My  walk  I  never  will  'resign, 
A  better  one  I  don't  know  ; 

Of  all  the  trades,  let  this  be  mine, 
Of  milk,  my  pretty  maids  below. 
Milk,  my  pretty  maids,  8cc. 


T.  Dibdin  . 


PRIMROSES. 

When  Nature  first  salutes  the  spring. 

And  fields  all  green  appear. 
The  feather'd  tribe  their  matins  sing 

And  hail  the  verdant  year  ; 
Ytt,  though  the  country  has  its  sweets, 

Unknown  to  those  in  town, 
'Tis  sweet  to  hear  in  London  streets, 

What's  cried  both  up  and  down. 
Two  bunches  a  penny,  primrose 
Two  bunches  a  penny  ! 

Though  winter  may  enrobe  with  snow 

Fit  Id,  mountain,  hill,  and  dale  ; 
Throughout  the  world  bid  tempests  blow, 

And  icy  chains  prevail  ; 
Yet  spring  will  come,  with  smiling  face. 

And  spread  its  charms  around, 
Give  freedom  to  the  w  at'ry  race, 

And  wake  the  pleasing  sound- 
Two  bunches  a  penny,  Sec 


154  MINSTREL. 

Thus  winter  must  to  spring  give  way, 

As  seasons  glide  along; 
The  rose-bud  blossoms  with  the  May, 

The  lark  resumes  its  song  ! 
And,  though  the  country  has  its  sweets, 

Unknown  to  those  in  town, 
Tis  sweet  to  hear,  in  London  streets, 

"What's  ery'd  both  up  and  down, 

Two  bunches  a  penny,  &c.  Upton. 


SMILE  FROM  THE  GIRL  OF  MY  HEART. 
In  the  world's  crooked  path  where  I've  been, 

There  to  share  of  life's  gloom  my  poor  part, 
The  bright  sunshine  that  softened  the  scene 

Was  a  smile  from  the  girl  of  my  heart. 

Not  a  swain,  when  the  lark  quits  her  nest, 

But  to  labour  with  glee  will  depart, 
If  at  eve  he  expects  to  be  blest 

With  a  smile  from  the  girl  of  his  heart. 

Come  then  crosses  and  cares  as  they  may. 
Let  my  mind  still  this  maxim  impart, 

That  the  comfort  of  man's  fleeting  day 
Is  a  smile  from  the  girl  of  his  heart.  Dudley. 


TUTHEREE  00,  AND  TAN. 
In  Dundee  there  liv'd  a  carl,  fu'  blithe  an'  merry, 
In  Dundee  there  liv'd  a  bonny  carl ; 


MINSTREL.  155 

-,<line;  spoiu»y  was  li is  lot, 
Wha  imigg'd  hersel'  and  often  gqi 

Tutheree  oo,  and  tan. 
She  ltd  him  a  life  that  fiT  wae  and  weary, 

Till  the  carl  he  vow'd  himsel'  he'd  hang ; 
And  wou'd  have  don't,  hut  thought  him  first, 
Of  ends,  a  rope's  end  was  the  worst.— 
Tutheree  oo,  and  tan . 

This  carl'f  wife  she  did  na'  play  ber  hubby  fairly, 

EIm  was  Andrew  Mackintosh  belied, 
She  made  her  husband's  heart  ache  through, 
And  then  she  made  his  head  ache  too. 

Tutheree  oo,  and  tan. 
,c  Wife,"  said  he,  u  of  life  I'ze  tired,  and  will  gang 
drown  me," 
She  replied, '  gude  wives  ne'er  contradict ;' 
44  But  should  my  spirit  come,"  said  he  ; 
1  Oh,  I  am  spirit-proof,'  said  she. 

Tutheree  oo,  and  tan. 

44  At  the  pond,"  said  he,  44  if  my  poor  heart  should 
fail  me. 
Will  you  run  behind,  and  push  me  in  ?M 
Says  she,  '  a  hard  part  'tis  to  play, 
But  'tis  my  duty  to  obey  !' 

Tutheree  oo,  and  tan. 
By  a  pond  he  stood,  that  was  deep  full  a  fathom, 

On  a  hill  stood  she— the  word  he  gave  ; 
Down  galloping  she  came,  when  he 
Just  stepp'd  aside,  and  in  popp'd  she  ! 

Tutheree  oo,  and  tan.  ^  Dibd- 


MIXSTREL. 

WHAT  THO'  'TIS  TRUE. 

Air-"  Fly  not  yet.'' 
Wha.ttho'  'tis  true  I've  talk'd  of  love. 
And  other  beauties  idly  strove 
My  heart  to  free  from  Mary's  chain— 
Unbroke  the  goklen  links  remain, 

Entwined  round  ev'ry  part : 
For  tho'  another's  charms  I've  praised, 
Those  chnrms  some  fond  rememb'rance  rais'd  : 
Perhaps  'twas  not  her  tresses  flowing, 
Dimpled  cheeks,  or  blushes  glowing  ; 

Oh  !  no— oh!  no,— 
'Twus  Mary*s  lip,  'twas  Mary's  eye, 
'Tv.as  Marv's  se.f  that  caused  the  sigh. 

And  touch'd  my  conscious  heart. 

I  own.  betray'd  by  youth  or  wine, 
I've  sw  ore  a  face  or  form  divine  ; 
Or  when  some  witching  syren  sung, 
My  yielding  soul  bf  wilder'd  hung 

Enraptur'd  with  her  art :, 
But  soon  the  feeble  spell  was  gone, 
Some  faint  resemblance  rais'd  alone  ; 
Could  tones  less  sweet  or  looks  less  smiling, 
Long  delude  my  soul-beguiling: 

Oh  !  no— oh  !  no.— 
'Twas  Man's  voice,  'twas  Mary's  glance, 
Twas  Mary's  self  that  caus'd  the  trance,- 

Still  Mary  rul'd  my  heart. 


MINSTREL. 


1VE  BEEN  ROAMING. 

Pve  b^i  n  roaming,  I've  been  roaming, 

Where  (he  meadow  dew  is  sweet, 
And  I'm  coming,  and  I'm  coming, 

With  it >  pearls  upon  my  feet. 
I've  been  roaming,  I've  been  roaming, 

O'er  the  rose  and  lily  fair, 
And  I'm  coming,  and  I'm  coming, 

With  their  blossoms  in  my  hair. 

i  roaming,  I've  been  roaming. 

Where  the  honey-suckb  en 
And  I'm  coming,  and  I'm  coming, 

With  its  kisses  on  my  lips. 
I've  been  roaming,  I've  been  roaming, 

Over  hill  and  over  plain, 
Aid  I'm  coming,  and  I'm  coming, 

To  my  bower  back  again. 


WATER  MELON. 

"Twas  noon,  and  the  reapers  reposed  on  the  bank. 

Where  our  rural  repast  had  been  spread  ; 
Beside  us  meander'd  the  rill  where  we  drank, 

And  the  green  willow^  wav'd  over  head. 
Lucinda,  the  queen  of  our  rustical  treat, 

With  smiles  like  the  season,  auspicious, 
Had  render'd  the  scene  and  the  banquet  moi 

But,  ch  !  the  desert  was  delicious. 


158  MINSTREL. 

A  melon,  the  sweetest  that  loaded  the  vine, 

The  kind-hearted  damsel  had  brought ; 
Its  crimson  core  teem'd  with  the  richest  of  wine<> 

"  How  much  like  her  kisses !"  I  thought. 
And  I  said,  as  its  nectarous  juices  I  quaff'd, 

"  How  vain  are  the  joys  of  the  vicious, 
No  tropical  fruit  ever  fumish'd  a  draught, 

So  innocent,  pure,  and  delicious. 

**  In  the  seeds  which  embellish  this  red  juicy  core, 

An  emblem  of  life  we  may  new , 
For  human  enjoyments  are  thus  sprinkled  o'er 

With  specks  of  an  ebony  hue. 
But  if  we  are  wise  to  discard  from  the  mind 

Every  thought  and  affection  that's  vicious ; 
Like  the  seed-speckled  core  of  the  melon,  we'll  find 

Each  innocent  pleasure  delicious."     &  Woodvtorth. 


OFT  IN  THE  STILLY  NIGHT. 

Oft  in  the  stilly  night, 

Ere  slumber's  chain  has  bound  me, 
Fond  memory  brings  the  light 
Of  other  days  around  me  ; 
The  smiles,  the  Bears  cf  boyhood's  years, 

The  words  of  love  then  spoken, 
The  eyes  that  shone,  now  dimm'd  and  gonr, 
The  chetiful  hearts  now  broken  ! 
Thus  in  the  stilly  night,  &c. 


MINSTREL.  15* 

When  I  remember  all 

The  friends  so  link'd  together, 
I've  seen  around  me  fall, 
Like  leaves  in  winter  weather, 
I  feel  like  one,  who  treads  alone 

Some  banquet  hall  deserted, 
Whose  lights  are  fled,  whose  garland's  dead, 
And  all  but  he  deserted. 

Thus  in  the  stilly  night,  Sec.  T.  Moore, 


JESSIE. 

j  True  hearted  was  he,  the  sad  swain  o'  the  Yarrow, 
\  And  fair  are  the  maids  on  the  banks  of  the  Ayr, 
But  by  the  sweet  side  o'  the  Nith's  winding  river 

Are  lovers  as  faithful,  and  maidens  as  fair  : 
j  To  equal  young  Jessie  seek  Scotland  all  over  ; 

To  equal  young  Jessie  you  seek  it  in  vain, 
Grace,  beauty,  and  elegance  fetter  her  lover, 
And  maidenly  modesty  fixes  the  chain. 

0  fresh  is  the  rose  in  the  gay,  dewy  morning, 

And  sweet  is  the  lily  at  evening  close  ; 
But  in  the  fair  presence  o'  lovely  young  Jessie, 

Unseen  is  the  lily,  unheeded  the  rose. 
Love  sits  in  her  smile,  a  wizard  ensnaring  ; 

Enthron'd  in  her  een  he  delivers  his  law  ; 
\nd  still  to  her  charms  she  alone  is  a  stranger, 

Her  modest  demeanours  the  jewel  of  a'. 

Burns> 


loO  MINSTREL. 

[Communicated.] 

THE  HERO  OF  NEW  ORLEANS 

Air.—"  Star  Spangled  Banner."' 

Thou  favourite  of  Heaven,  the  hope  of  the  brave. 
The  noblest  of  patriots  our  country  yet  gave, 
Secure  in  our  hearts,  thou  reignest  alone, 
And  shews  to  the  world  that  Jackson's  our  own. 

Then  hail  to  the  day,  three  cheers  and  huzza ! 

When  Jackson  shall  hold  over  freemen  the  sway, 
And  long  may  our  country  revere  his  great  name, 
From  themorth  to  the  south,  from  the  lakes  to  the  main* 

Thy  virtue's  recorded  on  tablets  of  fame, 
Thy  feats  are  remembered,  thy  glories  remain  ; 
The  Horse  Shoe,  Talapoosa,  thy  deeds  from  afar. 
And  the  acheivements  perform'd  in  the  Seminole  war, 
Have  rais'd  in  our  hearts  a  feeling  divine, 
And  the  reward  of  the  patriot  andsoldier  are  thine: 
And  long  may  our  country,  &c. 

Then  here's  a  health  to  "  Old  Hickory,"  the  pride  of 

the  west, 
And  a  toast  to  each  hero,  who  booty  repressed, 
Who  beauty  defended,  and  Britons  made  fly, 
And  at  Orleans  proclaim 'd,  "  we'll  be  free  or  we'll  die;" 
Then  huzza,  all  huzza  !  'tis  the  "  land  of  the  free,* 
\nd  the  Hero  of  Orleans  our  chieftain  shall  be  : 
And  long  mav  our  country,  ccc. 

MP.  Smith 


MINSTREL. 

LOUD  AND  CHILL  WAS  THE  BLAST. 

Sung  by  Mr.  Hey  I, 
Loud  and  chill  was  the  blast,  and  the  bright  snow  fell 
fast, 
On  a  maiden's  fair  bosom  who  travers'd  the  plain  ; 
And  oft  a  sad  tear,  on  her  cheek  pale  with  fear, 
Fell  in  sorrow  for  him  who  in  battle  was  slain. 
Fell  in  sorrow  for  him,  &c. 
But  the  proud  foe  had  fled,  where  her  Henry  had  bled. 
Still  with  conquest  and  love  had  he  thought  on  her 
charms ; 
Amidst  the  wild  storm,  he  beheld  her  fair  form, 
And  he  kiss'd  her, and  warm'd  her  to  life  in  his  arras. 
And  he  kiss'd  her,  Sec. 

SCOTCH  AIR. 

Sung  by  Miss  E.  Jeffersor.. 
And  ye  shall  walk  in  silk  attire, 

And  siller  ha'  to  spare, 
Gin  ye'll  consent  to  be  his  bride, 

Nor  think  on  Donald  mair. 
Oh  I  who  would  buy  a  silken  gown 

With  a  poor  broken  heart, 
And  what's  to  me  a  siller  crown. 

If  from  my  love  I  part  ? 
And  ye  shall  walk,  &c- 

I  Would  na  walk  in  silk  attire, 
Nor  braid  wi'  gems  my  hair, 
Vol.  I.  L 


MINSTREL. 

Gin  he  whose  faith  is  pledg'd  wi'  mine 
Were  wrang'd  an'  grieving  sair. 

From  infancy  he  lov'd  me  still, 
And  still  my  heart  shall  prove 

How  weel  it  can  those  vows  fulfil , 
Which  first  repaid  his  love. 
I  would  na  walk,  &c. 


WHY   DOES  AZURE  DECK  THE  SKY 

Why  does  azure  deck  the  sky  ? 

*Tis  to  be  like  thy  eyes  of  blue  *, 
Why  is  red  the  rose's  dye  ? 

Because  it  is  thy  blush's  hue. 
All  that's  fair,  by  love's  decree, 
Has  been  made  resembling  thee ! 

Why  is  falling  snow  so  white, 

But  to  be  like  thy  bosom  fair  ? 
Why  are  solar  beams  so  bright  ? 

That  they  may  seem  thy  golden  hair  ! 
All  that's  bright,  by  love's  decree, 
Has  been  made  resembling  thee ! 

Why  are  nature's  beauties  felt  ? 

Oh  !  'tis  thine  in  her  we  see ! 
Why  has  music  power  to  melt  P 

Oh  !  because  it  speaks  like  thee ! 
Ail  that's  sweet,  by  love's  decree, 
Has  been  made  resembling  thee  I         TJi *ore. 


MINSTREL. 


THE  THORN. 


From  the  white  blossom'd  sloe  my  dearChloe  requested 

A  sprig  her  fair  breast  to  adorn. 
No,  by  heav'ns,  I  exelaim'd,  may  I  perish, 

If  ever  I  plant  in  that  bosom  a  thorn. 
Then  I  shew  her  the  ring-,  and  implor'd  her  to  marry. 

She  blush'd  like  the  dawning  of  morn, 
44  Yes  I'll  consent,"  she  replied,  l*  If  you'll  promise 

That  no  jealous  rival  shall  laugh  me  to  scorn." 
No,  by  heavens,  I  exelaim'd,  may  I  perish, 

If  ever  I  plant  in  that  bosom  a  thorn. 


EVELEEN'S  BOWER. 

Oh  i  weep  for  the  hour, 

When  to  Eveleen's  bower 
The  Lord  of  the  valley  with  false  vows  came  ; 

The  moon  hid  her  light 

From  the  heavens  that  night. 
And  wept  behind  the  clouds  o'er  the  maiden's  sham'1 

The  clouds  pass'd  soon 

From  the  chaste  cold  moon, 
And  heaven  smiled  again  with  her  vestal  flame  , 

But  none  will  see  the  day 

When  the  clouds  shall  pass  away, 
Which  that  dark  hour  left  upon  Eveleeirs  fum--. 


The  white  snow  lay 

On  the  narrow  path-way, 


154  MINSTREL. 

Where  the  lord  of  the  valley  cross'd  over  the  moor : 

And  many  a  deep  print, 

On  the  white  snow's  tint, 
Show-d  the  track  of  his  footstep  to  Eveleen's  door. 

The  next  sun's  ray 

Soon  melted  away 
Every  trace  on  the  path  where  the  false  lord  came : 

But  there's  a  light  above, 

Which  alone  can  remove 
That  stain  upon  the  snow  of  fair  Eveleen's  fame. 

T.Moore. 

THE  MAID  OF  ARUTINA. 

Forlorn  among  the  Highland  hills, 

'Midst  nature's  wildest  grandeur, 
'Mid  rocky  dens  and  wooden  glens, 

With  weary  steps  I  wander. 
The  langsome  way,  the  darksome  day, 

The  mountain  mist  sae  rainy, 
Are  nought  to  me  when  gaun  to  thee, 

Sweet  maid  of  Arutina. 

Yon  mossy  rose-bud  down  the  howe, 

Just  opening  fresh  and  bonny, 
Blooms  fresh  beneath  the  hazel  bough, 

And  scarcely  seen  by  ony ; 
But  fairer  'mid  her  native  dale, 

Obscurely  blooms  my  Jeannief 
More  fair  than  day  or  rosy  May 

The  maid  of  Arutina. 


MINSTREL, 

High  on  the  mountain's  lofty  brow. 

I  view  the  distant  ocean, 
Where  avarice  courts  her  bounden  prow, 

Ambition  courts  promotion  ; 
Let  fortune  pour  her  golden  store, 

Her  laurel'd  favours  many, 
Give  me  but  this,  my  soul's  first  wish, 

The  maid  of  Arutina.  Tannahili , 


ONE  BOTTLE  MORE. 

Assist  me  ye  lads,  who  have  hearts  void  of  guile, 
To  sing  in  the  praise  of  old  Ireland's  isle, 
Where  true  hospitality  opens  the  door, 
And  friendship  detains  us  for  one  bottle  more. 
One  bottle  more,  arrah,  one  bottle  more, 
And  friendship  detains  us  for  one  bottle  more. 

Old  England,  your  taunts  on  our  country  forbear ; 
With  our  bulls  and  our  brogueswe  are  true  and  since; 
For  if  but  one  bottle  remains  in  our  store« 
We  have  generous  hearts  to  give  that  bottle  more. 
That  bottle  more,  &c 

At  Candy's  in  Church-street,  I'll  sing  of  a  set 
Of  six  Irish  blades  who  together  had  met: 
Four  bottles  a-piece  made  us  call  for  our  score, 
And  nothing  remained  but  one  bottle  more. 
One  bottle  more,  &c 


MINSTREL. 

Our  hill  being  paid,  we  were  loth  to  depart, 

For  friendship  had  grappled  each  man  by  the  heart, 

Where  the  least  touch,  you  know,  makes  an  Irishman 

roar, 
And  the  whack  from  shillelah  brought  six  bottles  more. 

Six  bottles  more,  ccc. 

Slow  Phoebus  had  shone  thro'  our  window  so  bright, 
t^uite  happy  to  view  his  blest  children  of  light : 
So  we  parted  with  hearts  neither  sorry  nor  sore, 
Resolving  next  night  to  drink  twelve  bottles  more. 
Twelve  bottles  more,  &e. 


THE  ROSE. 
To  a  shady  retreat  fair  Eliza  I  trac'd, 

Sweet  flowers  spread  thtir  fragrance  around, 
She  pluck'd  from  its  bed  a  fond  rose,  and  she  plac'd 
In  her  bosom  this  flower,  her  fair  image  to  grace  :— 

She  goddess  of  love  might  be  crown'd. 

i  softly  approach'd,  and  the  rose  thus  address'd: 

Thou  sweetest  of  flowers  that  blows, 
How  envied  thy  lot.  above  mortals  how  blest, 
Art  thou  thus  on  beauty's  bosom  caress 5d, 

Would  fate  had  decreed  me  a  rose.  T,  Moort 

COMIC  SONG. 
Your  laughter  I'll  try  to  provoke, 

With  wonders  I've  got  in  my  travels  ; 
And  first  is  a  pig  in  a  poke, 

Next  a  law-case  without  any  cavils  \ 


MINSTREL.  1* 

A  utraw  poker,  a  tiffany  boat, 

Paper  boots  to  walk  dry  thro'  the  ditches  ; 
A  new  lignum  vitse  great  coat, 
Flint  waistcoat  and  pair  of  glass  breeche*. 
Tol  de  rol,  &c. 
A  dimity  warming-pan,  new  ; 

Steel  night-cap  and  pair  of  lawn  bellows  ; 
A  yard  wide  foot  rule,  and  then  two 

Odd  shoes,  that  helong  to  odd  fellows  ; 
Coma  wheel-barrow,  earthenware  trig, 

A  book  boo  ml  in  wood  with  no  leaves  to't. 
Besides  a  new  vi -ivt ret  wig 

Lin'd  with  tripe,  and  a  long  pair  of  sleeves  to't. 
Tolde  rol,  &e. 
A  roal-scuttle  trimm'd  with  Seotch  gause. 

Pickled  crumpeis  and  harricoed  muffins  ; 
Tallow  stew-pan,  nankeen  chest  of  drawers. 
Dumb  alarm  bell  to  frighten  humguffins  ; 
Six  knives  and  forks  made  of  red  tape, 

A  patent  wash-leather  polony  ; 

A  gilt  coat  with  a  gingerbread  cape, 

And  lin'd  with  the  best  macaroni. 

Tol  de  roi,  &c. 

A  plumb  pudding  made  of  inch  deal, 

A  pot  of  mahogany  capers  ; 
A  gooseberry  pie  made  of  veal. 

And  stuff 'd  with  two  three  corner'd  scrapers; 
Sourcrout  iweeten'd  well  with  small  coal, 

A  fricaseed  carpenters  mallet; 
A  cast-iron  toad  in  a  hole, 
Aiid  a  monstrous  great  hole  in  the  ballad. 


8  MINSTREL. 

THE  SAILOR  BOY. 

Air—"  Minstrel  Boy." 
The  Sailor  Boy  from  his  home  has  gone— 

On  his  sea-beat  deck  you'll  find  him  ; 
To  a  foreign  clime  he  has  glided  on, 

And  his  dear  friends  left  behind  him. 
u  Land  I  love  !"  said  the  Sailor  Boy, 

"  Though  far  upon  the  ocean, 
My  heart  for  thee  shall  beat  with  joy— 

Thou  art  my  soul's  devotion." 
The  sea-breeze  blew  a  fav'ring  gate, 

The  Sailor's  heart  still  burning  ; 
He  gladly  bent  the  glowing  sail, 

And  homeward  was  returning  ; 
But  the  war-trump  sounded  o'er  the  deep, 

And  death  was  howling  round  him : 
All  broken  was  her  peaceful  sleep- 
Columbia's  foes  surround  him  I 
He  boldly  "  drew  his  battle  blade," 

Nor  fear'd  a  watery  pillow  ; 
Full  many  a  foe  in  death  he  laid, 

Beneath  the  blood-stain'd  billow ! 
The  Sailor  fell  i  but  thefoeman's  hand 

Could  not  quell  his  soul  of  bravery. 
"  I  die !"  he  said,  "  but  my  native  land, 

Oh !  thou  art  free  from  slavery." 


A  FLAXEN  HEADED  COW-EOW 
A  flaxen  headed  cow-boy,  as  simple  as  may  be, 
And  next  a  merry  plough-boy,  I  whistled  o?er  the  lea; 


MINSTREL.  >60 

hut  now  a  saucy  footman  I  stmt  in  worsted  lace. 
Rut  soon  I'll  be  a  butler  and  wag  my  jolly  face; 
When  steward  I'm  promoted  I'll  snip  a  tradesman's 

bill, 
My  master's  coffers  empty  my  pockets  for  to  fill ; 
When  lolling  in  my  chariot,  so  great  a  man  I'll  be, 
You'll  forget  the  little  plough-boy  that  whistled  o'er 

the  lea. 

I'll  buy  votes  at  elections,but  when  I've  made  the  pelf, 
I'll  stand  poll  for  the  parliament,  and  then  vote  in  my- 
self; 
Whatevar's  good  for  me,  sir,  I  never  will  oppose. 
When  all  my.ayes  are  sold  off,  why  then  I'll  sell  my 

noes  ; 
I'll  joke,  harangue,  and  paragraph,  with  speeches 

charm  the  ear, 
And  when  I'm  tir'd  on  my  legs,  I'll  then  sit  down  a 

peer; 
In  court  or  city  honour,  so  great  a  man  I'll  be, 
You'll  forget  the  little  plough-boy  that  whistled  o'er 
the  lea.  O'Keeffe. 


BARNEY  LEAVE  THE  GIRLS  ALONE. 

Judy  leads  me  such  a  life !  (repeat) 

The  devil  ne'e:  had  such  a  wife  ; 

What  can  the  matter  be  ? 
For,  if  I  sing  the  funny  song 
Of  Dolly  put  the  kettle  on. 
She's  mocking  at  me  all  day  long ; 

What  can  the  matter  be  ? 


170  MINSTREL. 

Mr.  Barney  leave  the  girls  alone  H 
Why  don't  you  leave  the  girls  alone* 

And  let  them  quiet  be  ? 
Put  the  muffins  down  to  roast, 
Blow  the  fire  and  make  the  toast: 

We'll  all  take  tea. 
Barney  you're  a  wicked  hoy, 
And  you  do  always  play  and  toy 

With  all  the  gals  you  see. 
Mr.  Barney  leave  the  girls  alone! 
Why  don't  you  leave  the  girls  alone, 

And  let  them  quiet  be  ? 
Mr.  Barney  leave  the  girls  alone  ! 
Why  don't  you  leave  the  girls  alone, 

And  let  them  quiet  be  ? 
Barney  rock  the  cradle,  O  ! 
Or  else  you'll  get  the  ladle  O  ! 

When  Judy  harps  to-day. 

Spoken. — Barney,  rock  that  cradle,  or  I'll  break  your 
pfite  with  the  ladle  ;  yes,  you  dog,  if  you  don't  mind 
yonr  F's  and  Q's,  I'll  comb  your  head  with  a  three- 
legged  stool.  You  see,  the  other  afternoon  I  was  ax'd 
out  to  take  a  comfortable  dish  of  Jour  shilling  shou- 
chong  tea,  and  I  sat  alongside  of  Miss  Polly  Sprigging; 
I  saw  she  got  quite  smitten  with  my  countenance — 
says  she  to  me,  Mr.  Barney  will  you  have  a  game  of 
hunt  the  slipper  ?  With  all  my  heart,  says  I— then  ray 
wife  bawled  out,  from  the  other  end  of  the  parlour, 

Mr.  Barney  leave  the  girls  alone, 
Why  don't  you  leave  the  girls  alone, 
And  let  them  quiet  be  ? 


MINSTREL.  171 

Judy  she  loves  whiskey,  O  ! 
She  goes  to  uncle's  shop  at  night, 

And  spends  an  hour  or  two  ; 
Then,  Barmy,  what  must  Barney  do, 
But  take  a  drop  of  whiskey  too, 
And  toast  the  girl  that's  kind  and  true, 
For  that's  the  way  with  me. 
Spoken.— Yes.  that  is  the  way  we  go,  to  he  sure,  and 
to  say  the  truth  on  it.  it  is  Done  of  th»-  pleasantest. 
You  see  I  loves  a  good  dinner,  hut  somehow  or  other 
we  don't  get  much  in  tlu-  week  clays,  a  pig's  foot  and 
a  carrot,  no  gn  at  choice  :  hut  on  Sunday  we  alwa5's 
have  a  shoulder  of  mutton  stack  round  with  turnips— 
I  like  a  piece  of  the  brown,  hut  my  wife,  she  always 
tucks  me  off  with  the  knuckle  hone  or  the  shoulder 
blade,  or  a  piece;  of  tie  dry  Bap,  to  the  tune  of 
Mr.  Barney  leave  the  girls  alone  ! 
Why  don't  you  leave  the  girls  alone, 
And  let  them  quiet  be? 


THE  SOLDIER. 
Row  happy  the  soldier  who  lives  on  his  pay. 
And  spends  half  a  crown,  out  of  sixpence  a  day  ; 
Yet  fears  neither  justice  s,  warrants,  nor  hums, 
But  pays  all  his  debts,  with  the  roll  of  his  drums  ; 
With  a  row  Je  dow,  &c. 

He  cares  not  a  marvedy  how  the  world  gor-s, 
lie's  provided  with  quarters,  and  money,  and  clothe*, 
He  laughs  at  all  sorrow  whenever  it  comes, 
And  rattles  away  with  the  roll  of  his  drums  ; 
With  a  row  de  dow,  &.c. 


172  MINSTREL. 

The  drum  is  his  glory,  his  joy,  and  delight, 
It  leads  him  to  pleasure,  as  ^vell  as  to  fight ; 
No  girl  when  she  hears  it,  though  ever  so  glum 
But  packs  up  her  tatters,  and  follows  the  drum ; 

With  a  row  de  dow,  &c.  0'Ke?jjt 


THE  EIRKS  OF  ABERFELDY. 

Bonnie  lassie,  will  ye  gang,  will  ye  gang,  will  y€ 
gang, 

Bonnie  lassie,  will  ye  gang  to  the  Birks  of  Aber- 
feldy ? 

Now  simmer  blinks  on  flow'ry  braes, 
And  o'er  the  crystal  streamlet  plays  ; 
Come,  let  us  spend  the  lightsome  days 
In  the  birks  of  Aberfeldy. 

Bonnie  lassie  will  ye  gang,  &c. 

While  o'er  their  heads  the  hazel  hing, 
The  little  birdies  blithely  sing, 
Or  lightly  flit  on  wanton  wing, 
In  the  birks  of  Aberfeldy. 

Bonnie  lassie  will  ye  gang,  &c. 

The  braes  ascend  like  lofty  wa;s, 
The  foaming  stream  deep  roaring  fa's, 
O'er  hung  wi'  fragrant  spreading  shaw   , 
The  birks  of  Aberfeldy. 

Bonnie  lassie  will  ye  gang,  &c. 

The  hoary  cliffs  are  crown'd  wi'  flowers. 
White  o'er  the  linns  the  burnie  r>ours, 


MINSTREL.  173 

And,  rising,  meets  wi'  misty  showers 
The  birks  of  Aberfeldy. 

Bonnie  lassie  will  ye  gang,  &c 
Let  fortune's  gifts  at  random  flee, 
They  ne'er  shall  draw  a  wish  from  me, 
Supremely  blest  wi'  love  and  thee, 
In  the  birks  of  Aberfeldy. 

Bonnie  lassie  will  ye  gang,  Sec. 

PRETTY  DEARY. 
Vdown  a  green  valley  there  liv'd  an  old  maid, 
.Vho  being  past  sixty,  her  charms  'gan  to  fade- 
She  of  waiting  for  husbands  was  weary, 
he  was  monstrous  rich,  that  for  me  was  enough, 
nd  sadly  I  wanted  to  finger  the  stuff, 
So  says  I,  will  you  marry  me,  deary  ? 

Pretty  deaiy,  O  la  fal,  &c. 
ays  she,  you  embarrass  me,  coming  to  woo, 
nd  she  tried  how  to  blush,  but  she  blush'd  rather  blue, 
For  her  cheeks  of  the  roses  were  weary, 
ays  she,  I  am  told  you're  a  sad  little  man, 
nd  cheat  all  the  dear  pretty  girls  that  you  can  ; 
Says  I.  don't  believe  it,  my  deary. 

Pretty  deary,  O  la  fal,  &c. 
ae  consented  that  I  for  the  license  should  go,' 
rhen  across  her,  meantime,  came  a  tall  Irish  beau, 
Who,  like  me,  in  pockets  was  peery. 
ut  of  his  calf's  head,  such  a  sheep's  eye  threw  he, 
hat  a  queer  little  hop  o'  my  thumb  she  call'd  me, 
And  he  diddled  me  out  o'  my  deary. 

Base  deary !  O  la  fal,  &c. 


MINSTREL. 


THE  GLASSES  SPARKLE  ON  THE  BOARD. 

The  glasses  sparkle  on  the  board, 

The  wine  is  ruby  bright, 
The  reign  of  pleasure  is  restor'd, 

Of  ease  and  gay  delight ; 
The  day  is  gone,  the  night's  our  own. 

Then  let  us  feast  the  soul, 
If  any  pain,  or  care  remain, 

Why  drown  it  in  the  bowl, 

Why  drown  it  in  a  bowl, 
If  any  pain,  or  care  remain, 

Why  drown  it  in  the  bowl. 

This  world,  they  say's  a  world  of  wo, 

But  that  I  do  deny  ; 
Can  sorrow  from  the  goblet  flow, 

Or  pain  from  beauty's  eye  ? 
The  wise  are  fools,  with  all  their  rules, 

When  they  would  joy  control ; 
If  life's  a  pain,  I  say  again. 

Let's  drown  it  in  the  bowl. 

That  time  flies  fast,  the  poet  sings, 

Then  surely  it  is  wise, 
In  rosy  wine  to  dip  his  wings, 

And  seize  him  as  he  flies  ; 
This  night  is  ours,  then  strew  with  fiowen 

The  moments  as  they  roll, 
If  any  pain,  or  care  remain, 

Why  drown  it  in  a  bowl.  Mvrru, 


MINSTREL.  175 

THE  BANKS  OP'  THE  DEE. 

Twas  Summer,  and  softly  the  breezes  were  blowing, 
And  sweetly  the  nightingale  sung  from  the  tree, 

At  the  foot  of  a  rock  where  a  river  is  flowing ; 
I  sat  myself  down  on  th«  banks  of  the  Dee. 

Flow  on,  lovely  Dee,  flow  on  thou  sweet  river, 
Thy  banks  purest  stream  shall  be  dear  to  me  ever  ; 

lor  there  I  fii-st  gain'd  the  affection  and  favour 
Of  Jamie,  the  glory  and  pride  of  the  Dee. 

iut  now  he's  gone  fiom  me,and  left  me  thus  mourning- 
To  fight  for  his  country— for  \aliunt  is  he  ; 

ind  ah  !  there's  no  hope  of  his  speedy  returning, 
To  wander  again  on  the  banks  of  the  Dee. 

le's  gone,  haph  ss  youth,  o'er  the  loud  roaring  billows, 
The  kindest  and  sweetest  of  all  the  gay  fellows, 
nd  left  me  to  stray  'mongst  the  once  loved  willows, 
The  loneliest  maid  on  the  banks  of  the  Dee. 

ut  time  and  my  prayers  may  perhaps  yet  restore  him, 
Blest  peace  may  restore  my  dear  shepherd  to  me  ; 
ad  when  he  returns,  with  such  care  I'll  watch  o'er 

him, 
He  never  shall  leave  the  sweet  banks  of  the  Dee. 

le  Dee  then  shall  flow,  all  its  beauties  displaying  ; 
The  lamb  on  its  banks  shall  again  be  seen  playing  ; 
bile  I  with  my  Jamie  am  carelessly  straying, 
\ixd  tasting  again  all  the  sweets  of  the  Dec. 

Home. 


MINSTREL- 
MARY. 
When  first  I  saw  my  Mary's  face, 
I  ken'd  na  weel  what  ail'd  me. 
My  heart  gade  tiutterin",  pittie  pat, 

My  een  began  to  fail  me. 
She's  ay  sae  genty,  trig  and  neat, 
A  grace  does  round  her  hover, 
Ae  look  depriv'd  me  o'  my  heart, 
And  I  became  her  lover. 

She's  ay  sae  bonny,  blythe  and  gay, 

She's  ay  sae  blythe  and  cheerie. 
She's  ay  sae  bonny,  blythe  and  gay, 
O  gin  I  was  her  dearie. 

Had  I  Dundas's  hale  estate, 

Or  Hoptoun's  pride  to  shine  in, 
Did  warlike  laurels  crown  my  head, 

Wi'  safter  bays  entwinin', 
I'd  lay  them  a'  at  Mary's  feet. 

Could  I  but  hope  to  move  her, 
And  prouder  than  a  squire  or  knight 

I'd  be  when  Mary's  lover. 
She's  ay  sae  bonnie,  See- 
But  O  I'm  fear'd  some  bonnier  lad. 

Will  gain  my  Mary's  favour  ; 
If  sae,  may  ev'ry  bliss  be  hers, 

Though  I  maun  never  ha'  her : 
For  gang  she  east,  or  gang  she  west, 

'Twixt  Forth  and  Clyde  all  over, 
While  men  have  ears,  or  eyes,  or  taste, 
She'll  always  find  a  lover. 

She's  ay  sae  bonny,  &c.  Burm. 


MIN5~  1*7 

UiY-CHEEK'D  PA  1  IV 
Down  \n  yon  village  I  live  so  sung-. 
Th«  >  call  me  Giles  tlie  ploughman's  boy  ; 
Through  woods  and  o'er  stiles,  as  I  trudge  many  mil<  =. 
1  whistle,  I  whistle,  and  whoop,  gee,  woo,  Jerry. 
Mj  work  being  done,  to  the  lawn  there  1  fly, 
Where  the  lads  at  the  lasses  all  look  very  sly  ; 
And  I'/,  deeply  in  love  with  a  girl,  it  is  true, 
But  1  know  what  I  know,  but  I  munna  tell  you  : 
But  I'll  whistle,  I'll  whistle,  for  of  all  the  girls  I  e'er 
did  i 
O,  cherry-eht  ek'd  Patty  for  me. 

Though  the  squire  so  great,  so  happy  may'nt  be 
A »  poor  simple  Giles  die  ploughman's  boy  : 
No  mai  rer  addle  my  pate. 

Hut  I'll  whistle,  I'll  whistle,  and  w  hoop  gee  m  oo,  Jerry . 
Now  cherry-cheek'd  Patty  she  lives  in  a  vale, 
Whom  L  help'd  o'er  the  stile  with  her  milking  pad  : 
And  Patty  has  a  like  notion  of  me,  it  is  true. 
And  I  know  what  I  know,  but  I  munna  tell 

But  I'll  whistle.  &c. 

and  strong,  and  willing  to  work, 
And  \\  hen  the  lark  rises,  off  trudges  I  : 
lie.  cows  up  I  call,  and  harness  old  Ball, 
I  whistle,  I  whistle,  and  whoop,  gee  woo,  Jerry. 
rhen  I'/e  fifty  good  shillings,  my  luck  has  been  such, 
\nd  a  lad's  not  to  be  grinn'd  at  that's  gotten  so  much. 
\nd  when  that  I'm  married  to  Patty  so  true, 
know  what  I  know,  but  I  munna  tell  you. 

But  I'll  whistle.  &C. 
Vol.  I.  M 


178  MINSTREL. 

THE  WILD  IRISH  BOY. 
I-ra  a  wild  Irish  boy,  that  is  just  come  to  town, 
To  see  this  great  city  of  fame  and  renown : 
One  day,  in  my  travels,  I  chanced  for  to  stop 
In  a  thumping  big  field,  and  they  called  it  George's 
Park. 
Musha  tu  de  I  ah !  folderiddle  rol  de  ri  tu  de  I  ah .' 
I  had  not  been  there  long,  till  I  chanc'd  for  to  spy 
A  crowd  of  stout  boys,  who  were  boxing  hard  by : 
Och  I  says  I,  my  dear  honeys,  leave  off  with  your  tricks, 
For  its  my  country's  fashion  to  box  with  two  sticks. 
Musha  tu  de  I  ah,  &c 

Then  a  big-headed  butcher,  just  standing  hard-by. 
Says,  hold  your  tongne,  Pat,  or  I'll  knock  out  your  eye: 
For  fear  of  my  eyes,  not  a  word  could  I  speak, 
And  the  heart  in  my  body  I  thought  it  would  break. 

Musha  tu  de  I  ahj  Sec. 
Then  looking  around  me,  and  try  in  l  I 
Some  stout  Irish  lad,  from  my  own  country, 
When  one  stepping  up,  put  his  hand  on  my  back. 
And  says, -•*  rap  at  him  Paddy  M'Laughlan  O1  Whack." 

Musha  tu  de  I  ah,  Sec. 

Then  I  being  put  up,  by  the  word  of  command, 
I  seized  my  shillalah  right  tight  in  my  hand  ; 
Och !  the  first  poke  I  gave  him,  'twas  over  the  head, 
You'd  thought,in  your  soul,  he'd  been  seven  years  dead. 

Musha  tu  de  I  ah,  &c. 
In  less  than  ten  minutes,  we  clear'd  the  whole  green, 
And  the  devil  a  dandy  was  there  to  be  seen : 


MINSTREL. 

*•  Och  !"  says  one  to  the  other,  "why  don't  you  run 

quick, 
Don't  you  see  the  wild  Irishman  with  his  big  5tick. 

Musha  tu  de  I  ah,  &c. 
And  now  I'm  noted  all  over  the  city, 
For  I've  flogg'd  all  the  bullies,  and  think  it  no  pity 
Neither  wife,  maid,  or  widow,  will  e'er  turn  her  back, 
When  she  hears  the  soft  name  of  M'LaughlanO'  Whack 

Musha  tu  de  I  ah,  &c. 

TOM  STARBOARD. 

Tom  Starboard  was  a  lover  true, 

As  brave  a  tar  as  ever  sail'd  ; 
The  duties  ablest  seamen  do 

Tom  did,  and  never  yet  had  fail'd. 
But,  wreck'd  as  he  was  homeward  bound, 

Within  a  league  of  England's  coast, 
Love  saved  him  sure  from  being  drown'd, 

For  more  than  half  the  crew  were  lost. 

In  fight  Tom  Starboard  knew  no  fear ; 

Nay,  when  he  lost  an  arm,  resign'd, 
Said,  love  for  Nan,  his  only  dear, 

Had  saved  his  life,  and  Fate  was  kind  : 
And  now,  though  wreck'd,  yet  Tom  retura'd, 

Of  all  past  dangers  made  a  joke  ; 
For  still  his  manly  bosom  burn'd 

With  love— his  heart  was  heart  of  oak, 
His  strength  restored,  Tom  nobly  ran 

To  cheer  his  Nan,  his  destined  bri 


ft  MINSTREL. 

But  false  report  had  brought  to  Nan, 
Six  months  before,  that  Tom  had  died. 

With  grief  she  daily  pined  away, 
No  remedy  her  life  could  save  ; 

And  Tom  return'd— the  very  day 
1  hey  laid  his  Nancy  in  the  grave.        T.  Knight. 

DEAR  IS  MY  LITTLE  NATIVE  VALE. 
Dear  is  my  little  native  vale  ! 

The  ling-dove  builds  and  warbles  there : 
Close  by  my  cot  she  tells  her  tale 

To  eveiy  passing  villager ; 
The  squirrel  leaps  from  tree  to  tree, 
And  shells  his  nuts  at  liberty. 
In  orange  groves  and  myrtle  bowers, 

That  breathe  a  gale  of  fragrance  round, 
I  charm  the  fairy-footed  hours 

With  my  loved  lute's  romantic  sound  ; 
Or  crowns  of  living  laurels  weave 
For  those  who  win  the  race  at  eve. 

The  shepherd's  horn  at  break  of  day, 
The  ballet  dance  in  twilight  glade, 

The  canzonet  and  roundelay, 

Sung  in  the  silent  greenwood  shade : 

These  simple  joys,  that  never  fail, 

Shall  bind  me  to  my  native  vale.  Roger*. 

ROY'S  WIFE  OF  ALDIVALLOCH. 
Roy's  wife  of  Aldivallocb, 
Roy's  wife  of  Aldivalloch, 


MINSTREL.  Ml 

Wat  ye  how  she  cheated  me, 
As  1  came  o'er  the  braes  of  Balloch. 

Mr  vnw'd,  she  swore  she  wad  be  mine, 

She  said  she  lo'ed  me  best  of  ony, 
But  oh  !  the  fickle,  faithless  quean, 

She's  ta'en  the  carle  and  kit  her  Johnny. 
Roy's  wife,  &c 

O  she  was  a  canty  quean, 

And  weel  could  dance  a  Highland  walloch, 
How  happy  I,  had  she  been  mine, 

Or  I'd  been  Roy  of  Aldivalloch. 
Roy's  wife,  &c, 
Her  face  sae  fair,  her  een  sae  clear, 

Her  wee  bit  mou'  sae  sweet  and  bonny, 
To  me  she  ever  will  be  dear, 

Though  she  forever  left  her  Johnny. 

Roy's  wife,  &c.  Mrs.  Grant. 

THE  GARLAND  OF  LOVE. 

low  sweet  are  the  flowers  that  grow  by  yon  fountain, 
And  sweet  are  the  cowslips  that  spangle  the  grove  ; 
nd  sweet  is  the  breeze  that  blows  over  the  mountain, 
But  sweeter  by  far  is  the  lad  that  I  love. 
Then  I'll  weave  a  gay  garland, 
A  fresh  blooming  garland, 
With  lilies  and  roses, 
And  sweet  blooming  posies, 
To  give  to  the  lad  my  heart  tells  me  I  love. 

was  down  in  the  vale,  where  the  sweet  Torza  gliding' 
Its  murmuring  stream  ripples  thro'  the  dark  grove, 


1*2  MINSTREL. 

I  own'd  what  I  felt,  all  my  passion  confiding, 
To  ease  the  fond  sighs  of  the  lad  that  I  love. 

Then  I'll  weave,  &c.  T.  Hook. 


LIFE  LET  US  CHERISH. 

Life  let  us  cherish 

While  yet  the  taper  glows, 
And  the  fresh  flow'ret, 
Pluck  ere  it  close. 
Why  are  we  fond  of  toil  and  care 
Why  choose  the  rankling  thorn  to  wear, 
And  heedless  by  the  lily  stray, 
Which  blossoms  in  our  way. 
Life  let  us  cherish,  See. 

When  clouds  obscure  the  atmosphere, 
And  forked  lightnings  rend  the  air, 
The  sun  resumes  his  silver  crest, 
And  smiles  a-dorn  the  west. 
Life  let  us  cherish,  &c. 

The  genial  seasons  soon  are  o'er, 
Then  let  us  ere  we  quit  this  shore, 
Contentment  seek,  it  is  life's  rest, 
The  sunshine  of  the  breast. 

Life  let  us  cherish,  &c. 
Away  with  every  toil  and  care, 
And  cease  the  rankling  thorn  to  wear, 
With  manful  heart  life's  conflicts  meet, 
Till  death  sounds  the  retreat. 

Life  let  us  cherish,  &c 


MINSTREL. 

I  KE  MEETING  OF  THE  WATERS. 
There  is  not  in  this  wide  world  a  valley  so  sweet, 
As  the  vale  in  whose  bosom  the  bright  waters  meet ; 
Oh  I  the  last  ray  of  feeling  and  life  sliall  depart, 
Ere  the  bloom  of  that  valley  6hall  fade  from  my  heart. 

Yet  it  was  not  that  nature  had  shed  o'er  the  scene 
Her  purest  of  crystal  and  brightest  of  green  ; 
'Twas  not  the  soft  magic  of  streamlet  or  hill, 
Oh  !  no,— it  was  something  more  exquisite  still. 
Twas  that  friends,  the  beloved  of  my  bosom  were  near, 
Who  made  each  dear  scene  of  enchantment  more  dear, 
And  who  ft  It  how  the  blest  charms  of  nature  improve. 
When  we  see  them  reflected  from  looks  that  we  love. 
Sweet  vale  of  Ovoca !  how  calm  could  I  rest 
In  thy  bosom  of  shade  with  the  friends  I  love  best : 
Where  the  storms  which  we  feel  in  this  cold  world 

should  cease. 

And  our  hearts,  like  thy  waters,  be  mingled  in  peace ! 

T.  Moore. 

LOGIE  OF  BUCHAN. 
O!  Logie  of  Buchan,  O  !  Logie  the  laird, 
They  have  ta'en  awa  Jamie  that  delv'd  in  the  yard, 
Who  play'd  on  the  pipe  \vi'  the  viol  sae  sma', 
They  hae  ta'en  awa  Jamie,  the  flower  o'  them  a\ 
He  said,  think  na  lang  lassie,  though  I  gang  awa. 
He  said,  think  na  lang  lassie,  though  I  gang  awa, 
For  the  simmer  is  coming,  cauld  winter's  awa, 
And  I'll  come  and  see  thee,  in  spite  o'  them  a\ 


iS4  MINSTREL. 

Sandy  has  ousin,  has  gear,  and  has  kye  : 
A  house,  and  a  hadden,  and  siller  for  by, 
But  I'd  tak'  min  ain  lad  wi'  his  staff  in  his  hand, 
.Before  I'd  ha'e  him  \vi'  his  houses  and  land. 
He  said,  &c. 

If  y  daddy  looks  sulky,  my  mither  looks  sour, 
I  hey  frown  upon  Jamie,  because  he  is  poor, 
Tho'  I  Io'e  them  as  well  as  a  daughter  should  do, 
They're  na  half  so  dear  to  me,  Jamie,  as  you. 
He  said,  &c. 

I  sit  on  my  creepie,  and  spin  at  my  wheel, 
And  I  think  on  the  laddie  that  loed  me  sae  weel, 
He  had  but  a  sixpense,  he  brake  it  in  twa, 
And  he  gied  me  the  ha'f  o't  when  he  ga'd  awa. 
Then  haste  ye  back,  Jamie,  and  bide  na  awa, 
Then  haste  ye  back,  Jamie,  and  bide  na  awa, 
Simmer  is  comhr,  cauld  winter's  awa, 
And  ye'll  come  and  see  me  in  spite  of  them  a'. 

Burns* 


THE  HARP. 

The  harp  that  once  through  Tara's  hall* 

The  soul  of  music  shed, 
Now  hangs  as  mute  on  Tara's  walls 

As  if  that  soul  were  fled. 
So  sleeps  the  pride  of  former  days, 

So  glory  rs  thrill  is  o'er ; 
And  hearts  that  once  beat  high  for  prai»e. 

Now  feel  that  pulse  no  more. 


MINSTREL.  JRS 

Ko  men-  the  chiefs  and  ladies  bright, 

The  harp  of  Tara  swells  ; 
i  he  chord,  alone,  that  breaks  at  night, 

lu  Lile  of  ruin  tells. 
Thus  freedom  now  so  seldom  wakes, 

The  only  throb  she  give  s, 
Is  when  some  heart  indignant  breaks, 

To  show  that  still  she  lives.  T.  Moore. 


JESSIE,  THE  FLOWER  O'  DUMBLANE. 

The  sun  has  gane  down  o'er  the  lofty  Benlomond, 

And  left  the  red  clouds  to  preside  o'er  the  scene, 

While  lanely  I  stray  in  the  calm  simmer  gloaming, 

To  muse  on  sweet  Jessie,  the  flow'r  o'  Dumblane  ; 

Mow  sweet  is  the  brier  wi'its  saft  faulding  blossom, 

And  sweet  is  the  birk  wi'  its  mantle  o'  green, 
Yet  sweeter  an'  fairer  an'  dear  to  my  bosom. 
Is  lovely  young  Jessie,  the  flower  o'  Dumblane, 
Is  lovely  young  Jessie,  is  lovely  young  Jessie, 
Is  lovely  young  Jessie,  the  flow'r  o'  Dumblane. 

She's  modest  as  ony,  an'  blyth  as  she?s  bonny. 

For  guileless  simplicity  marks  her  its  ain, 
An5  far  be  the  villian  divested  o'  feeling, 
Wha'd  blight  in  its  bloom  the  sweet  flow'r  o'  Dum- 
blane ; 
,  Sing  on,  thou  sweet  Mavis,  thy  hymn  to  the  e'ening, 

Thou'rt  dear  to  the  echoes  o'  Calderwood  glen, 
Sae  dear  to  this  bosom,  sae  artless  and  winning. 
Is  charming  young  Jessie,  the  flow'r  o'  Dumblane. 
Is  charming  young  Jessie,  &c. 


186  MINSTREL. 

How  lost  were  my  days,  till  I  met  wi'  my  Jessie, 

The  sports  o'  the  city  seem*d  foolish  and  vain, 
I  ne:er  saw  a  nymph  I  would  ca'  my  dear  lassie, 

Till  fcharm'd  wi'  sweet  Jessie,  the  fiow'r  o'  Dum- 
blane ; 
Tho'  mine  were  the  station  o'  loftiest  grandeur, 

Amidst  its  profusion  Fd  languish  in  pain, 
An'  reckon  as  naething  the  height  o'  its  splendour, 

If  wanting  sweet  Jessie,  the  fiow'r  o'  Dumblane. 

TannakilL 


THE  POST  CAPTAIN. 

When  Steerwell  heard  me  first  impart 

Our  brave  commander's  story, 
With  ardent  zeal,  his  youthful  heart 

Sweli'd  high  for  naval  glory, 
Resolv'd  to  gain  a  valiant  name, 

For  bold  adventure  eager, 
When  first  a  little  cabin  boy  on  board  of  the  Fame, 

He  would  hold  on  the  jigger. 
While  ten  jolly  tars,  with  the  musical  Joe, 
Hove  the  anchor  a-peak,  singing,  yeo,  heave  yec. 

To  hand  top-ga'nt  sails  next  he  learnt, 

With  quickness,  care  and  spirit, 
Whose  generous  master  soon  discern'd, 

And  priz'd  his  dawning  merit : 
He  taught  him  soon  to  reef  and  steer, 

When  storms  convuls'd  the  ocean, 
Where  shoals  made  skilful  vet'rans  fear, 

Which  mark'd  him  for  promotion* 


MINSTREL.  I8T 

For  none  to  the  pilot  e'er  answered  like  he, 
When  he  gave  the  command,  "  Hard  a-port,  helm's  a- 
Ite.*' 

For  valour,  skill  and  worth  renown'd, 

The  foe  he  oft  defeated, 
And  now  with  fame  and  fortune  crown'd, 

Post-captain  he  is  rated  ; 
Who,  should  our  injur'd  country  bleed, 

Still  .boldly  he'd  defend  her— 

lest  with  peace,  if  beauty  plead, 

He'll  prove  his  heart  as  tender. 

Unaw'd  yet  mild,  to  high  and  low, 
To  pcor  and  wealthy,  friend  or  foe- 
Wounded  tars  share  his  wealth, 
All  the  fleet  drink  his  health— 
Priz'd  be  such  hearts,  for  aloft  they  must  go, 
Who  always  are  ready  compassion  to  show, 
To  a  brave  conquer'd  foe.  Dibdin. 


WIFE.  CHILDREN,  AND  FRIENDS. 

Air.—"  Humours  of  Glen.''' 
When  the  black  letter'd  list  to  the  gods  was  presented. 

The  list  of  what  fate  for  each  mortal  intends, 
At  the  long  string  of  ills  a  kind  goddess  relented, 
And  slipp'd  in  three  blessings,  wife,  children  and 
friends. 

In' vein  surly  Pluto  declared  he  was  cheated. 
And  justice  divine  could  not  compass  her  ends, 


18S  MINSTREL. 

The  scheme  of  man's  penance  he  swore^v.  as  defeated. 
For  earth  becomes  heaven  with  wife,  children,  and 

friends. 

If  the  stock  of  our  bliss  is  in  stranger  hands  rested. 
The  fund,  ill  secured,  oft  in  bankruptcy  • 

But  the  heart  issues  bills,  which  are  never  protested, 
When  drawn  on  the  firm  of— wife,  children,  and 
friends. 

The  soldier,  whose  deeds  live  immortal  in  story, 
When  duty  to  far  distant  latitudes  sends, 

With  transport  would  barter  whole  ages  of  glory 
For  one  liappy  hour  with  wife,  children,  and  friends. 

Though  valour  still  glows  in  his  life's  waning  embers, 
The  death- wounded  tar,  who  his  colours  defends, 

Drops  a  tear  of  regret,  as  he  dying  remembers, 
How  blest  was  his  .home  with  wife,  children,  and 
friends. 

Tho'  the  spice-breathing  gale  o'er  his  caravan  hovers, 
Though  around  him  Arabia's  whole  fragrance  de- 
scends , 
The  merchant  still  thinks  of  the  woodbine  that  covers 
The  bower  where  he  sat  with  wife,  children,  and 
friends. 

The  day-spring  of  youth,  still  unclouded  with  sorrow, 
Alone  on  itself  for  enjoyment  depends, 

But  drear  is  the  twilight  of  age  if  it  borrow 
No  warmth  from  the  smiles  of  wife,  children,  and 
friends. 


MIN5TREL.  1S» 

Let  the  breath  of  renown  ev<  r  freshen  and  nourish 
The  laurel  that  o'er  her  fair  favourites  bends. 

O'er  me  wave  the  willow,  and  long  may  it  flourish, 
Bedew'd  with  the  tears  of  wife,  children,  and  friends. 

Let  us  drink,  for  my  song  growing  graver  and  graver 

To  subjects  too  solemn  insensibly  tends  ; 
Let  us  drink,  pledge  me  high,  lore  and  virtue  shall 
flavour 
The  glass  that  we  fill  to  wife,  children,  and  friends. 

Spencer. 


LIBERTY  TREE. 

In  a  chariot  of  light  from  the  regions  of  day, 

The  goddess  of  Liberty  earn  • ; 
Ten  thousand  celestials  directed  the  way, 

And  hither  conducted  the  dame. 
A  fair  budding  branch  from  the  gardens  above, 

Where  nullions  with  millions  agree, 
She  brought  in  her  hand  as  a  pledge  of  her  love, 

The  plant  she  nam'd  Liberty  Tree. 

The  celestial  exotic  struck  deep  in  the  ground. 

Like  a  native  it  flourish'd  and  bore  ; 
The  fame  of  its  fruit  drew  the  nations  around, 

To  seek  out  its  peaceable  shore. 
I  nuundful  of  titles,  or  distinctions,  they  came, 

For  freemen  like  brothers  agree  ; 
"With  one  spirit  endued,  they  one  friendship  pursued, 

And  their  temple  was  Liberty  Tree. 


190  MINSTREL. 

Beneath  this  fair  tree,  like  the  patriarchs  of  old, 

Their  bread  in  contentment  they  eat; 
Unvex'd  with  the  troubles  of  silver  and  gold, 

The  cares  of  the  grand  and  the  great ; 
With  timber  and  tar  they  old  England  supplied, 

And  supported  her  power  on  the  sea ; 
Her  battles  they  fought  without  getting  a  groat5 

For  the  honour  of  Liberty  Tree. 

But  hear,  O  ye  swains,  ('tis  a  tale  most  profane) 

How  all  the  tyrannical  powers, 
Kings,  Commons,  and  Lords,  are  uniting  amain, 

To  cut  down  this  guardian  of  ours  : 
From  the  east  to  the  west  blow  the  trumpet  to  arms. 

Thro'  the  land  let  the  sound  of  it  flee ; 
Let  the  far  and  the  near  all  unite  with  a  cheer, 

In  defence  of  our  Liberty  Tree.  T.  Pabnt. 


ALKNOMOOK. 
The  sun  sets  at  night  and  the  stars  shun  the  day, 

But  glory  remains  when  the  light  fades  away ; 
Begin  ye  tormentors,  your  threats  are  in  vain, 

For  the  son  of  Alknomook  shall  never  complain. 

Remember  the  arrows  he  shot  from  his  bow, 
Remember  your  chiefs  by  his  hatchet  laid  low  ; 

Why  so  slow  !  do  you  wait  till  I  shrink  from  my  pain? 
No— the  son  of  Alknomook  shall  never  complain. 

Remember  the  wood,  where  in  ambush  we  lay, 
And  the  scalps  which  we  bore  from  your  nation  away, 


MINSTREL.  191 

Kow  t.'ic  ilame  rises  fast,  you  exult  in  my  pain  ; 
But  the  son  of  Alknoinook  shall  never  eomplairi , 

I  go  to  the  land  where  my  father  is  gone  ; 

His  ghost  shall  rejoice  in  the  fame  of  his  son  , 
Death  comes  like  a  friend,  to  relieve  me  from  pain ; 

And  thy  son,  oh  !  Alknomook,  ha3  scorn'd  to  com- 
plain. Hunter. 


MY  ONLY  JO  AND  DEARIE  O. 
Thy  cheek  is  o'  the  rose's  hue, 

My  only  Jo  and  dearie  O, 
Thy  neck  is  like  the  siller  dew, 

Upon  the  bank  sae  brierie  O, 
Thy  teeth  are  o'  the  ivory, 

O  sweet's  the  twinkle  o'  thine  ee' 
5<ae  joy,  nae pleasure,  blinks  on  me, 

My  only  Jo  and  dearie  O. 

The  birdie  sings  upon  the  thorn, 

Its  sang  o' joy,  fu'  cheerie  O, 
Rejoicing  in  the  simmer  morn, 

Nae  care  to  mak'  it  eerie  O; 
But  little  kens  the  sangster  sweet, 

Aught  o'  the  care  I  hae  to  meet, 
That  gars  my  restless  bo3om  beat, 

My  only  Jo  and  dearie  O. 

When  we  were  barnies  on  yon  brae, 
And  youth  was  blinkin  bonnie  O, 

Aft  we  wad  daff  the  lelang  day, 
Our  joy  fu'  sweet  and.monie  O, 


1*2  MINSTREL. 

I  own'd  what  I  felt,  all  my  passion  confiding, 
To  ease  the  fond  sighs  of  the  lad  that  I  love. 

Then  I'll  weave,  &c.  T.  Hook. 


LIFE  LET  US  CHERISH. 

Life  let  us  cherish 

While  yet  the  taper  glows, 
And  the  fresh  floweret, 
Pluck  ere  it  close. 
Why  are  we  fond  of  toil  and  care 
Why  choose  the  rankling  thorn  to  wear, 
And  heedless  by  the  lily  stray, 
Which  blossoms  in  our  way. 
Life  let  us  cherish,  ike. 

When  clouds  obscure  the  atmosphere, 
And  forked  lightnings  rend  the  air, 
The  sun  resumes  his  silver  crest, 
And  smiles  a-dorn  the  west. 
Life  let  us  cherish,  &c. 

genial  seasons  soon  are  o'er, 
Then  let  us  ere  we  quit  this  shore, 
Contentment  seek,  it  is  life's  rest, 
The  sunshine  of  the  breast. 

Life  let  us  cherish,  &c. 
Away  with  every  toil  and  care. 
And  cease  the  rankling  thorn  to  wear, 
manful  heart  life's  conflicts  meet. 
Till  death  sounds  the  retreat. 

Life  let  us  cherish,  &c 


MINSTREL- 
IKE  MEETING  OF  THE  WATERS. 
rh«.  re  is  net  in  this  wide  world  a  valley  so  sweet, 
As  the  vale  in  whose  bosom  the  bright  waters  meet ; 
Oh !  the  last  ray  of  feeling  and  life  shall  depart, 
Ere  the  bloom  of  that  valley  shall  fade  from  my  heart. 

Vet  it  was  not  that  nature  had  shed  o'er  the  scent 
Her  purest  of  crystal  and  brightest  of  green  ; 
'Twas  not  the  soft  magic  of  streamlet  or  hill, 
Oh  !  nc,— it  was  something  more  exquisite  still. 
'Twas  that  friends,  the  beloved  of  my  bosom  were  near, 
Who  made  each  dear  scene  of  enchantment  more  dear, 
And  who  felt  how  the  blest  charms  of  nature  improve. 
When  we  see  them  reflected  from  looks  that  we  love. 
Sweet  wile  of  Ovoca  1  how  calm  could  I  rest 
In  thy  bosom  of  shade  with  the  friends  I  love  best ; 
Where  the  storms  which  we  feel  in  this  cold  world 

should  cease. 
And  our  hearts,  like  thy  waters,  be  mingled  in  peace! 

T.  Moore. 

LOGIE  OF  BUCHAN. 
O!  Logic  of  Buchan,  O!  Logie  the  laird, 
They  have  ta'en  awa  Jamie  that  delv'd  in  the  yard, 
Who  play'd  on  the  pipe  wi'  the  viol  sae  sma*, 
They  hae  ta'en  awa  Jamie,  the  flower  o'  them  a'. 
He  said,  think  na  lang  lassie,  though  I  gang  awa. 
He  said,  think  na  lang  lassie,  though  I  gang  awa, 
For  the  simmer  is  coming,  cauld  winter's  awa, 
And  I'll  ccme  and  see  thee,  in  spite  o"  them  a". 


JS4  MINSTREL. 

Sandy  has  ousin,  has  gear,  and  has  kye  : 
A  house,  and  a  hadden,  and  siller  for  by, 
But  I'd  tak'  rain  ain  lad  wi'  his  staff  in  his  hand. 
Before  I'd  ha'e  him  wi?  his  houses  and  land. 
He  said,  &c. 

if  y  daddy  looks  sulky,  my  mither  looks  sour, 
They  frown  upon  Jamie,  because  he  is  poor, 
Tho'  I  lo'e  them  as  well  as  a  daughter  should  do, 
They're  na  half  so  dear  to  me,  Jamie,  as  you. 
He  said,  &c. 

1  sit  on  my  creepie,  and  spin  at  my  wheel, 
And  I  think  on  the  laddie  that  loed  me  sae  weel, 
He  liad  but  a  sixpense,  he  brake  it  in  twa, 
And  he  gied  me  the  ha'f  o't  when  he  ga'd  awa. 
Then  haste  ye  back,  Jamie,  and  bide  na  awa, 
Then  haste  ye  back,  Jamie,  and  bide  na  awa, 
Simmer  is  comhf,  cauld  winter's  awa, 
And  yell  come  and  see  me  in  spite  of  them  a'. 

Burns* 


THE  HARP. 

The  harp  that  once  through  Tara's  hall* 

The  soul  of  music  shed, 
Now  hangs  as  mute  on  Tara's  walls 

As  if  that  soul  were  fled. 
So  sleeps  the  pride  of  former  days, 

So  glory's  thrill  is  o'er ; 
And  hearts  that  once  beat  high  for  prai»e. 

Now  feel  that  pulse  no  more. 


MINSTREL.  185 

V  o  more  the  chiefs  and  ladies  bright, 

The  harp  of  Tara  swells  ; 
The  chord,  alone,  that  breaks  at  night, 

Iu  fcde  of  ruin  tells. 
T hus  freedom  now  so  seldom  wakes, 

The  only  throb  she  gives, 
Is  when  some  heart  indignant  breaks, 

To  show  that  still  she  lives.  T.  Moore. 


JESSIE,  THE  FLOWER  O'  DUMBLANE. 

The  sun  has  gane  down  o'er  the  lofty  Benlomond, 

And  left  the  red  clouds  to  preside  o'er  the  scene, 

While  lanely  I  stray  in  the  calm  simmer  gloaming, 

To  muse  on  sweet  Jessie,  the  flow'r  o'  Dumblane  ; 

Kow  sweet  is  the  brier  wi'its  saft  faulding  blossom, 

And  sweet  is  the  bilk  wi'  its  mantle  o'  green, 
Yet  sweeter  an*  fairer  an'  dear  to  my  bosom, 
Is  lovely  young  Jessie,  the  flow'r  o'  Dumblane, 
Is  lovely  young  Jessie,  is  lovely  young  Jessie, 
Is  lovely  young  Jessie,  the  flow'r  o'  Dumblane. 

She's  modest  as  ony,  an'  blyth  as  she's  bonny, 

For  guileless  simplicity  marks  her  its  ain, 
An:  far  be  the  villian  divested  o'  feeling, 

Wha'd  blight  in  its  bloom  the  sweet  flow'r  o'  Dum- 
blane ; 
Sing  on,  thou  sweet  Mavis,  thy  hymn  to  the  e'ening, 

Thou'rt  dear  to  the  echoes  o'  Calderwood  glen, 
Sae  dear  to  this  bosom,  sae  artless  and  winning, 

Iu  charming  young  Jessie,  the  flow'r  o'  Dumblane* 
Is  charming  young  Jessie,  8cc. 


18ft  MINSTREL. 

How  lost  were  my  days,  till  I  met  wi'  my  Jessie. 

The  sports  o'  the  city  seem'd  foolish  and  vain, 
I  ne'er  saw  a  nymph  I  would  ca'  my  dear  lassie, 

Till  rcharm'd  wi'  sweet  Jessie,  the  fiow'r  o'  Dum- 
blane ; 
Tlio'  mine  were  the  station  o'  loftiest  grandeur. 

Amidst  its  profusion  Fd  languish  in  pain, 
An'  reckon  as  naething  the  height  o'  its  splendour, 

If  wanting  sweet  Jessie,  the  flow'r  o'  Dumblane. 

TcnnahiU. 


THE  POST  CAPTAIN. 

When  Steerwell  heard  me  first  impart 

Our  brave  commander's  story, 
With  ardent  zeal,  his  3-outhful  heart 

Swell'd  high  for  naval  glory, 
d  to  gain  a  valiant  name, 

For  bold  adventure  eager, 
When  first  a  little  cabin  boy  on  board  of  the  Fame, 

He  would  hold  on  the  jigger. 

ten  jelly  tars,  with  the  musical  Joe, 
Hove  the  anchor  a-peak,  singing,  yeo,  heave  yec. 

ad  top-ga'nt  sails  next  he  learnt, 

With  quickness,  care  and  spirit, 
Whose  generous  master  soon  discern'd, 

And  priz'd  his  dawning  merit : 
He  taught  him  soon  to  reef  and  steer, 

When  storms  convuls'dthe  ocean, 
Where  shcals  made  skilful  vet'rans  fear, 

Which  mark'd  him  for  promotion* 


MINSTREL.  13T 

For  none  to  the  pilot  e'er  answered  like  he, 
When  he  gave  the  command,  "  Hard  a-port,  helm's  fi- 
le t." 

For  valour,  skill  and  worth  renown'd, 

The  foe  he  oft  defeated, 
And  now  with  fame  and  fortune  crown'd, 

Post-captain  he  is  rated  ; 
Who,  should  our  injur'd  country  bleed, 

Still  .boldly  he'd  defend  her—" 
When  blest  with  peace,  if  beauty  plead, 

He*U  prove  his  heart  as  tender. 

Unaw'd  yet  mild,  to  high  and  low, 
To  poor  and  wealthy,  friend  or  foe — 

Wounded  tars  share  his  wealth, 

All  the  fleet  drink  his  health— 
Priz'd  be  such  hearts,  for  aloft  they  must  go, 
Who  always  are  ready  compassion  to  show, 
To  a  brave  conquer'd  foe.  Dibdtn. 


WIFE.  CHILDREN,  AND  FRIENDS. 

Air.— Ci  Humours  of  Glen."1 
When  the  black  letter'd  list  to  the  gods  was  presented* 

The  list  of  what  fate  for  each  mortal  intends, 
At  the  long  string  of  ills  a  kind  goddess  relented, 
And  slipp'd  in  three  blessings,  wife,  children  and 
friends. 

InVrin  surly  Pluto  declared  he  was  cheated. 
And  justice  divine  could  not  compass  her  ends, 


18S  MINSTREL. 

The  scheme  of  man's  penance  he  swore  ^vs  as  defeated. 
For  earth  becomes  heaven  with  wife,  children,  and 
friends. 

If  the  stock  of  our  bliss  is  in  stranger  hands  rested. 
The  fund,  ill  secured,  oft  in  bankruptcy  ends, 

But  the  heart  issues  bills,  which  are  never  protested, 
When  drawn  on  the  firm  of— wife,  children,  and 

friends. 

The  soldier,  whose  deeds  live  immortal  in  story, 
When  duty  to  far  distant  latitudes  sends, 

With  transport  would  barter  whole  ages  of  glory 
For  one  happy  hour  with  wife,  children,  and  friends. 

Though  valour  still  glows  in  his  life's  waning  embers, 
The  death- wounded  tar,  who  his  colours  defends, 

Drops  a  tear  of  regret,  as  he  dying  remembers, 
How  blest  was  his  Jiome  with,  wife,  children,  and 
friends. 

Tho'  the  spice-breathing  gale  o'er  his  caravan  hovers, 
Though  around  him  Arabia's  whole  fragrance  de- 
scends, 
The  merchant  still  thinks  of  the  woodbine  that  covers 
The  bower  where  he  sat  with  wife,  children,  and 
friends. 

The  day-spring  of  youth,  still  unclouded  with  sorrow, 
Alone  on  itself  for  enjoyment  depends, 

But  drear  is  the  twilight  of  age  if  it  borrow 
No  warmth  from  the  smiles  of  wife,  children,  and 
friends. 


MINSTREL.  IS* 

Lot  the  breath  of  renown  eirerftesheh  and  nourish 
The  laurel  that  o'er  her  fair  favourites  bends, 

O'er  me  wave  the  willow,  and  long  may  it  flourish, 
Bedew'd  with  the  tears  of  wife,  children,  and  friends. 

Let  us  drink,  for  my  son  g  growing  graver  and  grayer. 

To  subjects  too  solemn  insensibly  tends  ; 
Let  us  drink,  pledge  me  high,  lore  and  virtue  shall 
flavour 
The  glass  that  we  fill  to  wife,  children,  and  friends. 

Spenrrr. 


LIBERTY  TREE. 

In  a  chariot  of  light  fmm  the  regions  of  day, 

The  goddess  of  Liberty  came  ; 
Ten  thousand  celestials  directed  the  way, 

And  hither  conducted  the  dame. 
A  fair  budding  branch  from  the  gardens  above, 

Where  millions  with  millions  agree, 
She  brought  in  her  hand  as  a  pledge  of  her  lore, 

The  plant  she  nanvd  Liberty  Tree. 

The  celestial  exotic  struck  deep  in  the  ground. 

Like  a  native  it  flourish'd  and  bore  ; 
The  fame  of  its  fruit  drew  the  nations  around, 

To  seek  out  its  peaceable  shore. 
I'nmindful  of  titles,  or  distinctions,  they  came, 

For  freemen  like  brothers  agree  ; 
With  one  spirit  endued,  they  one  friendship  pursued, 

And  their  temple  was  Liberty  Tree. 


190  MINSTREL. 

Beneath  thi3  fair  tree,  like  the  patriarchs  of  old. 

Their  bread  in  contentment  they  eat; 
Unvex'd  with  the  troubles  of  silver  and  gold, 

The  cares  of  the  grand  and  the  great ; 
With  timber  and  tar  they  old  England  supplied, 

And  supported  her  power  on  the  sea ; 
Her  battles  they  fought  without  getting  a  groat. 

For  the  honour  of  Liberty  Tree. 

But  hear,  O  ye  swains,  ('tis  a  tale  most  profane) 

How  all  the  tyrannical  powers, 
Kings,  Commons,  and  Lords,  are  uniting  amain, 

To  cut  down  this  guardian  of  ours  : 
From  the  east  to  the  wTest  blow  the  trumpet  to  arms. 

Thro'  the  land  let  the  sound  of  it  flee ; 
Let  the  far  and  the  near  all  unite  with  a  cheer, 

In  defence  of  our  Liberty  Tree.  T.  Pabns. 


ALKNOMOOK. 

The  sun  sets  at  night  and  the  stars  shun  the  day, 
But  glory  remains  when  the  light  fades  away  -, 

Begin  ye  tormentors,  your  threats  are  in  vain, 
For  the  son  of  Alknomook  shall  never  complain. 

Remember  the  arrows  he  shot  from  his  bow, 
Remember  your  chiefs  by  his  hatchet  laid  low  ; 

Why  so  slow  I  do  you  wait  till  I  shrink  from  my  pain? 
No— the  son  of  Alknomook  shall  never  complain. 

Remember  the  wood,  where  in  ambush  we  lay, 
And  the  scalps  which  we  bore  from  your  nation  away, 


MINSTREL.  191 

Now  Die  dame  rises  fast,  you  exult  in  my  pain  ; 
But  the  son  of  Alknomook  shall  never  complain 

I  go  to  the  land  where  my  father  is  gone ; 

His  ghost  shall  rejoice  in  the  fame  of  his  son  ; 
Death  comes  like  a  friend,  to  relieve  me  from  pain ; 

And  thy  son,  oh  !  Alknomook,  has  scorn'd  to  com- 
plain. Hunter. 


MY  ONLY  JO  AND  DEARIE  O. 
Thy  cheek  is  o'  the  rose's  hue, 

My  only  Jo  and  dearie  O, 
Thy  neck  is  like  the  siller  dew, 

Upon  the  bank  sae  brierie  O, 
Thy  teeth  are  o'  the  ivory, 

O  sweet's  the  twinkle  o'  thine  ee' 
Sae  joy,  nae  pleasure,  blinks  on  me, 

My  only  Jo  and  dearie  O. 

The  birdie  sings  upon  the  thorn, 

Its  sang  o' joy,  fu'  cheerie  O, 
Rejoicing  in  the  simmer  morn, 

Nae  care  to  mak'  it  eerie  O; 
But  little  kens  the  sangster  sweet, 

Aught  o'  the  care  I  hae  to  meet* 
That  gars  my  restless  bosom  beat, 

My  only  Jo  and  dearie  O. 

When  we  were  barnies  on  yon  brae, 
And  youth  was  blinkin  bonnie  O, 

Aft  we  wad  daff  the  lelang  day, 
Our  joy  fu'  sweet  and.monie  O, 


-TREL. 

Aft  I  wad  chase  thee  o'er  the  iea. 
An'  round  about  the  thornie  tree. 

Or  pu'  the  wild  flow'rs  a'  for  thee. 
My  only  Jo  and  dearie  O, 

I  hae  a  wish  I  eanna  tine, 

'Mang  a'  the  cares  that  grieve  me  O, 
A  wish  that  thou  Avert  ever  mine, 

And  never  mair  to  leave  me  O  ; 
Then  I  wad  daut  thee  night  and  day, 

Nor  ither  war'ly  care  wad  hae, 
Till  life's  warm  stream  forgat  to  play, 

My  only  Jo  and  dearie  O. 


OH !   WH Y  SHOULD  THE  GIRL,  &c. 

Oh  !  why  should  the  girl  of  my  soul  be  in  tears. 

At  a  meeting  of  rapture  like  this, 
"When  the  gloom  of  the  past  and  the  sorrows  of  year* 

Have  been  paid  by  the  moment  of  bliss. 

Are  they  shed  for  that  moment  of  blissful  delight, 

Which  dwells  on  her  memory  yet ; 
Do  they  flow  like  the  dews  of  the  love  breathing  night. 

From  the  warmth  of  the  sun  that  has  set. 

Oh !  sweet  is  the  tear  on  that  languishing  smile, 

That  smile  which  is  loveliest  then  ; 
And  if  such  are  the  drops  that  delight  can  beguile, 

Thou  shalt  weep  them  again  and  again.     T  Mvore 


MINSTREL.  193 


MY  SOLDIER  LADDIE. 

Sung  by  Mrs.  Knight. 

Leeze  me  on  ray  soldier  love, 
Bonnie  laddie,  soldier  laddie, 

Brave  as  lion,  kind  as  dove, 
Bonnie  laddie,  soldier  laddie. 

Should  he  fall  in  battle  strife- 
Bonnie  laddie,  soldier  laddie, 

None  beside  shall  call  me  wife, 
Bonnie  laddie,  soldier  laddie, 

But  if  glorious  from  the  wars, 

Bonnie  laddie,  soldier  laddie, 
Proud  will  I  be  of  his  scars, 

Bonnie  laddie,  soldier  laddie. 
By  the  sparkle  of  his  e'e,— 

Bonnie  laddie,  soldier  laddie, 
None,  I  ken  he  loves  but  me, 

Bonnie  laddie,  soldier  laddie. 


COMIN'  THRO'  THE  RYE. 

Sung  by  Mrs.  Knight, 
If  a  body  meet  a  body 

Comin1  through  the  Rye, 
If  a  body  kiss  a  body, 

Need  a  body  cry  ? 
Ev'ry  lassie  has  her  laddie, 

Nane  they  say  have  I, 
But  all  the  lads  they  smile  at  me 

When  comin'  through  the  rye  i 
.  I.  N 


MINSTREL. 

Amang  the  train  there  is  a  swain, 
The  lad  I  toe  sae  well, 

But  where's  his  hame.  or  what  s  his  name, 
I  dinna  choose  to  tell. 

If  a  body  meet  a  body 

Comin'  frae  the  town, 
If  a  body  kiss  a  body 

Need  a  body  frown  ? 
Ev'ry  lassie  has  her  laddie, 

Nane  they  say  have  I, 
But  all  the  lads  they  smile  at  me 

When  comin'  through  the  rye  : 
Amang  the  train,  &c. 

If  a  body  meet  a  body 

Comin1  through  the  glen, 
If  a  body  kiss  a  body 

Need  the  world  a  ken  ? 
Ilkajenny  has  her  Jocky, 

Nane  they  say  have  I, 
But  all  the  lads  they  smile  on  mc, 

Then  what  the  waur  am  I  ? 
Amang  the  train,  &.c. 


WILLIAM  TELL. 
Sung  by  Mr.  Hey  I. 
When  William  Tell  was  doom'd  to  die, 

Or  hit  the  mark  upon  his  infant's  head— 
The  bell  toll'd  out,  the  hour  was  nigh, 
And  soldiers  maich'd  with  grief  and  dread  .' 


MINSTREL.  195 

The  warrior  came,  serene  and  mild, 

Gfts'd  all  around  with  dauntless  look, 
Till  his  fond  boy  unconscious  sniil'd  ; 
Then  nature  and  the  father  spoke. 
And  now,  each  valiant  Swiss  his  grief  partakes, 
For  they  sigh, 
And  wildly  cry, 
Poor  William  Tell !  once  hero  of  the  lakes. 

But  soon  is  heard  the  muffled  drum, 

And  straight  the  pointed  arrow  flies, 
The  trembling  boy  expects  his  doom, 

All,  all  shriek  out— "  he  dies  !  he  dies  P* 
When  lo !  the  lofty  trumpet  sounds  ! 

The  mark  is  hit !  the  child  is  free  .' 
Into  his  father's  arms  he  bounds, 

Inspir'd  by  love  and  liberty  ! 
And  now  each  valiant  Swiss  their  joy  partakes, 
For  mountains  ring, 
Whilst  they  sing, 
Live  William  Tell  I  the  hero  of  the  lakes. 


NEW  SONG. 
As  sung  by  Mr.  Heyl, 
With  martial  step,  the  soldiers  come, 
To  raise  recruits,  by  beat  of  drum  ; 
Whilst  o'er  a  mug  of  nut  brown  ale, 
The  sergeant  tells  the  merry  tale. 


►  MINSTREL. 

The  country  boobies  gape  and  stare, 
And  fancy  castles  built  in  air  : 
Whilst  every  maid  who  hears  the  fife, 
Aspires  to  be  a  soldiers  wife. 

Cries  Giles,  half  muzzy,  "  Xed,  I  vow 
I  never  more  will  drive  the  plough'''' — 
*  Come,  here's  to  our  country  !'  the  sergeant  cries 
Then  round  the  board  the  liquor  flies ! 
The  silken  purse  of  gold  he  shakes, 
A  certain  bait  for  country  cakes— 
"Whilst  every  maid,  &c. 

Having  of  drink  and  sleep  their  fill, 
The  new  recruits  turn  out  to  drill, 
The  cockade  monstrous  fine  appears, 
But  then,  the  sword  awakes  their  fears. 
At  length  the  drum  each  bumpkin  moves, 
The  hamlet  quite  deserted  proves. 
Since  every  maid,  &c. 


THE  TRUE  HEARTED  FELLOW. 
With  my  pipe  in  one  hand  and  my  jug  in  the  other,  * 

I'll  drink  to  my  neighbour  and  friend  : 
All  my  cares  in  a  whitf  of  tobacco  I'll  smother, 

Since  my  life  I  know  shortly  must  end. 
While  Ceres  most  kindly  refills  my  brown  jug, 

With  good  ale  I  will  make  myself  mellow  ; 
In  my  old  w  icker  chair,  I  will  seat  myself  snug, 

Like  a  jolly  and  true  hearted  fellow. 

T 


MINSTREL.  197 

11  ne'er  trouble  my  head  with  affairs  of  the  nation, 

I've  enough  of  my  own  for  to  mind  ; 

II  we  see  in  this  Kit:  is  but  care  and  vexation, 

For  to  death  we  must  all  be  consign'd  ; 

Ian  well  laugh,  drink  and  sing,  and  leave  nothing 

to  pay, 
The  n  dioj),  like  a  pear  ripe  and  mellow  ; 
nd  when  cold  in  my  coffin,  I'll  leave  them  to  say, 
He  is  gone— H  hat  a  hearty  good  fellow. 


TALLY  HO. 
e  sportsmen  draw  near,  and  ye  sportswomen  too, 
"Who  delight  in  the  joys  of  the  field  ; 
[ankind,  tho*  they  blame,  are  all  eager  as  you, 
And  no  one  the  contest  will  yield  ; 
is  lordship,  his  worship,  his  honor,  his  grace, 
A  hunting  continually  go  ; 
11  ranks  and  degrees  are  engag'd  in  the  chace, 
With,  hark  forward,  huzza !  tally  ho. 

he  lawyer  w  ill  rise  wiA  the  first  in  mora, 

To  hunt  for  a  mortgage  or  deed  ; 

he  husband  gets  up  at  the  sound  of  the  horn, 

And  rides  to  the  common  full  speed  ; 

he  patriot  is  thrown  in  pursuit  of  his  game  ; 

The  poet  too  often  lies  low, 

'ho,  mounted  on  pegasus,  flies  after  fame, 

With,  hark  forward,  huzza  !  tally  ho. 

hile  fearless  o'er  hills  niul  o'er  woodlands  we  speed, 
'ho'  prudes  on  our  pastime  may  frown, 


198  MINSTREL. 

How  oft  do  they  decency's  bounds  overleap, 
And  the  fences  of  virtue  break  down  ! 

Thus  public,  or  private,  for  pension,  for  place, 
For  amusement,  for  passion,  for  show, 

All  ranks  and  degrees  are  engag'd  in  the  chace, 
With,  hark  forward,  huzza  I  tally  ho. 


OLD  COMMODORE. 

Odds  blood  !  what  a  time  for  a  seaman  to  skulk 

Under  gingerbread  hatches  ashore; 
"What  a  curs'd  bad  job,  that  this  batter'd  old  hulk, 
Can't  be  rigg'd  out  for  sea  once  more  ; 
For  the  puppies  as  they  pass, 
Cocking  up  a  squinting  g'.ass, 
Thus  run  down  the  old  commodore  : 
That's  the  old  commodore, 
The  rum  old  commodore, 
The  gouty  old  commodore,  he  ! 
Why  the  bullets  and  the  gout. 
Have  so  knock'dhis  hull  about. 
That  he'll  never  more  be  fit  for  sea. 

Here  am  I  in  distress,  like  a  ship  water-logg'd, 

Not  a  tow-rope  at  hand,  nor  an  oar; 
I  am  left  by  my  crew,  and  may  I  be  fiogg'd, 
But  the  Doctor's  a  lubberly  hove  ! 
While  I'm  swallowing  his  slops, 
How  nimble  are  his  chops. 
Thus  queering  the  old  commodotv  ; 


MINSTREL.  1^9 

Had  cnsr,  commodore. 

Can't  say,  commodore) 
Mus'n't  latter,  commodore,  says  he, 

For  the  bullets  and  the  gout, 

Maw  so  knock'd  your  hull  about, 
That  you'll  never  more  be  fit  for  sea.    , 

What  !  no  more  be  afloat  ;  blood  and  fury— they  lie  ! 

I'm  a  seaman  and  only  three-score  ; 
And  if,  as  they  tell  me,  I'm  likely  to  die, 
Gad/.ooks,  let  me  not  die  ashore. 
death  'tis  all  a  joke, 
Sailors  live  in  fire  and  smoke, 
So  at  least  says  the  old  commodore, 
The  rum  old  commodore, 
The  totigh  old  commodore, 
The  fighting  old  commodore — he  ! 
"Whom  the  devil  nor  the  gout, 
Nor  the  doctor's  dreg's  to  boot, 
Shall  kill,  till  they  grapple  him  at  sea* 


FLOWERS  OF  THE  FOREST. 
The  flowers  of  the  forest  in  spring-time  were  gay, 
\nd  love  heighten'd  every  soft  pleasure  of  May  ; 
My  Mary  stray'd  with  me  wherever  I  went, 
\nd  my  heart  was  the  mansion  of  peace  and  content. 
But  alas  !  she  has  left  me  for  pastimes  more  gay, 
And  the  flowers  of  the  forest  ail  wither  away. 

The  flowers  of  the  forest  in  spring-time  were  gay, 
\»d  the  smile  of  my  Mary  gave  wings  to  the  day  ; 


300  MINSTREL. 

But  past  are  thow  pleasures,  no  more  to  return, 
Her  charms  I  adore  and  her  falsehood  I  mourn  ; 
For  alas !  she  has  left  me,  &c 

The  flowers  of  the  forest  in  spring-time  were  gay, 
Like  their  fragrance,  my  bliss  and  fond  hopes  pass'd  a- 

way  : 
Fine  hopes  which  I  caught  from  the  glance  of  her  eye, 
Now  blighted  by  sorrow,  fade,  wither,  and  die  ; 

For  alas  !  she  has  left  me,  &c. 


OH!  WHAT  A  ROW. 
OH !  what  a  row !  what  a  rumpus  and  a  rioting, 
All  those  endure,  you  may  be  sure,  that  go  to  sea. 
A  ship  is  a  thing  that  you  never  can  be  quiet  in 
By  wind  or  steam  it's  all  the  same,  'twas  so  with  me. 
Wife  and  daughter,  on  the  water  said  they'd  like  to 

sail  a  bit, 
I  consented,  soon  repented,  then  began  to  rail  a  bit ; 
"  Pa  J  now  pray !  go  to  day,  the  weathers  so  inviting. 

lauk, 
I'm  sure  'twill  do  such  good  to  you,  they'll  feed  you 

like  a  fighting  cock. 

Oh  I  what  a  row,  &c. 

In  a  boat,  I  got  afloat,  as  clumsy  as  an  elephant, 
So  spruce  and  gay  to  spend  the  day,  and  make  a  splash; 
Gad!  its  true,  I  did  it  too,  for  stepping  in,  I  fell  off  oirt, 
And  overboard,  upon  my  word,  I  went  slap  dash. 
Wife  squalling,  daughter  bawling,  every  thing  provok- 
ing me. 


MINSTREL.  201 

Called  ua  hog,  a  poodle  dog,"  all  the  sailors  joking  me, 
Dripping  wet,  and  in  a  fret,  with  many  more  distress- 

ables, 
A  fellow  took  the  long  boat-hook,  and  caught  my  in- 
expressibles. 

Oh  !  what  a  row,  &c. 

Such  a  gig, without  a  wig,  on  deck  I  was  exhibited, 

Laugh'd  at  by  the  passengers, and  quizz'd  by  the  crew; 

Raved  and  swore,  that  on  the  shore  I  rather  had  been 
gibbetted — 

Than  thus,  half  drown'd,  by  all  around,  be  roasted  too. 

Danger  past,  and  dry  at  last,  indulging  curiosity, 

I  stared  to  see,  the  vessel  flee,  with  such  a  Strang  ve- 
locity ; 

"  Pray,"  said  I, to  one  just  by,  "  What  power  can  im- 
pel us  so?" 

\u  The  smoky  devil  goes  by  steam,  at  least  the  lubbers 
tell  us  so." 

Oh!  what  a  row,  8cc. 

Not  a  sail,  to  catch  a  gale,  yet  magically  on  I  went, 
Gainst  wind  and  tide,  and  all  beside,  in  wonder  quite ; 
Cast  my  eye  up  to  the  sky, and  tall  as  Trinity's  monu- 
ment 

I  saw  the  kitchen  chimney  smoke,  as  black  as  night. 
People  toiling, roasting,  boiling,  bless  us  such  a  rookery, 
They'd  soup  and  fish,  and  fowl  and  flesh,  and  Niblo's 

tavern  cookery  ; 
Then  the  noise  of  men  and  boys  !  a  din  to  rival  hell's 

hubbub, 


202  MINSTREL. 

I  thought  the  crew  were  devil's  all,  the  master  captain 
Beelzebub. 

Oh  !  what  a  row,  &c. 

Wife  to  me,  says— says  she, "  now's  your  time  to  pick  a 
bit, 

The  dinner's  serving  up  below— and  we  must  fly." 

Says  I,  "  my  dear,  Tin  very  queer,  I*  m  going  to  be  sick 
a  bit, 

"  I'm  seized  with  an  all-over-ness,  I  faint,  I  die  ! 

"  I  cannot  eat,  1  loath  my  meat,  I  feel  my  stomach  fail- 
ing me, 

"Steward  hasten,  bring  a  bason,  what  the  deuce  is  ail- 
ing me, 

"  If  its  handy  ,get  some  brandy,''  the  malady  to  quench 
unable, 

Down  I  lay,  for  half  a  day— in  pickle  quite  unmention- 
able. 

Oh  !  what  a  row,  Sec. 

As  to  dinner,  I'm  a  sinner  if  I  touch'd  a  bit  of  it, 
But  anchor  cast,  and  home  at  last,  I'm  safe  once  more, 
In  the  packet,  such  a  racket,  crowding  to  <ret  quit  of  it, 
Like  cattle  from  a  coaster,  we  were  haul'd  on  shore. 
With  "  how  d'ye  do,"  and  how  are  you — I  see  you're 

better  physically  ; 
u  Zounds,  be  still,  I'm  very  ill,  your're  always  talking 

quizically  ; 
"  Some  with  glee,  may  go  to  sea,  but  I  shall  not  be  wil- 
ling, sir, 
'For  such  a  day  again  to  pay,  just  two  pounds  fifteen 
shillings,  sir." 

Oh  !  what  a  row,  ike, 


MINSTREL.  203 

THE  PRIDE  OF  THE  VALLEY. 
The  pride  of  the  valley  U  lovely  young  Ellen, 

"Who  dwells  in  a  cottage  enshrined  by  a  thicket, 
Sweet  peace  and  content  are  the  wealth  of  her  dwell- 
ing 

And  truth  is  the  porter  that  waits  at  the  wicket. 
The  zephyr  that  lingers  on  violet  down  pinion, 

With  springs  blushing  honorsHlelighted  to  dally, 
Ne'er  breathed  on  a  blossom  in  Flora's  dominion, 

So  lovely  as  Ellen,  the  pride  of  the  valley. 

She's  true  to  her  Willie,  and  kind  to  her  mother, 

Nor  riches,  nor  honors,  can  tempt  her  from  duty, 
Content  with  her  station,  she  sighs  for  no  other, 

Though  fortunes  and  titles  have  knelt  to  her  beauty. 
To  one  her  affections  and  promise  are  blighted, 

Our  ages  are  square,  our  tempers  will  tally, 
O  moment  of  rapture  that  sees  one  united 

To  lovely  young  Ellen,  the  pride  of  the  valley. 

Woodworth. 

THE  FARMER'S  INGLE. 
Let  Turks  triumph,  let  tyrants   reign, 

Let  poets  sing  in  lofty  strain  ; 
Let  Turk?  take  wives  ;  let  priests  live  single, 

But  my  delight  is  the  farmer's  ingle. 

The  farmer's  ingle  is  the  place 

Where  beauty  shines  in  ev'ry  face  ; 
My  wishes  were  and  are  to  mingle. 

With  honest  hearts  at  the  farmer's  ingle, 


I  MINSTREL. 

Success  to  trade  is  the  merchant's  toast, 
While  Liberty  is  our  country's  boast  : 

The  miser  doth  his  money  jingle, 
Yet  my  delight  is  the  farmers  ingle. 

In  winter,  when  the  frost  and  snow 
Drives  the  poor  farmer  to  his  home, 

Your  heart  wou'd  ache,  your  ears  wou'd  tinkle, 
To  hear  the  tales  of  the  farmer's  ingle. 

The  sailor  boldly  ploughs  the  main, 
The  soldier  talks  of  heaps  of  slain, 

But  as  for  us  we'll  ne'er  live  single — 

Then  a  bumper  fill  to  the  farmer's  ingle. 


THE  FLOWER  GIRL. 

Forbid  it,  kind  Heaven,  that  my  parents  should  sigh, 

While  I  can  sell  flowers  in  the  street ; 
My  poor  little  sister  too  surely  would  die, 
Did  I  cease  to  procure  them  some  meat. 
Then  buy  my  sweet  flowers,  and  shield  us  from 

Borrow, 
What  I  earn  to-day  we  must  live  on  to-morrow. 

Ah  !  had  not  my  father  been  killed  in  the  war, 

And  ltft  us  both  friendless  and  poor, 
I  should  not  thus  wander  with  flowers  so  far, 
And  cry  them  at  every  door. 

Then  buy  my  sweet  flowers,  Sec. 


MINSTREL. 

My  mother,  alas  !  since  my  father  is  dead, 

la  almost  deprived  of  her  sight, 
And  I,  for  my  sister  and  her  to  get  bread, 
Cull  flowers  as  soon  as  'tis  light. 
Then  buy  my  sweet  flowers,  &c. 


DRINK  TO  ME  ONLY  WITH  THINE  EYES. 
Drink  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes, 

And  I  will  pledge  with  mine  ; 
Or  leave  a  kiss  but  in  the  cup, 

And  I'll  not  look  for  wine. 
The  thirst  that  from  ray  soul  doth  rise, 

Doth  ask  a  drink  divine, 
But  might  I  of  Jove's  nectar  sip, 

I  would  not  change  for  thine. 

I  sent  thee  late  a  rosy  wreath, 

Not  so  much  honouring  thee, 
As  giving  it  a  hope,  that,  there, 

It  would  not  withered  be. 
But  thou  thereon  didst  only  breathe, 

And  sent  it  back  to  me  : 
Since  then,  it  grows,  and  looks  and  smells, 

Not  for  itself,  but  thee. 


MARY. 
Mary  I  belie v'd  thee  true, 

And  I  was  blest  in  thus  believing; 
But  now  I  mourn  that  e're  I  knew 

A  gir\  so  fair  and  so  deceiving. 


i  MINSTREL. 

How  few  have  ever  lov'd  like  me, 
Oh  !  I  have  lov'd  thee  too  sincerely  ! 

And  few  have  e'er  deceiv'd  like  thee, 
Alas  I  deceiv'd  me  too  severely  I 

Fare  thee  well,  yet  think  a  while 

On  one  whose  bosom  bleeds  to  doubt  thee, 
"Who  now  would  rather  trust  that  smile, 

And  die  with  thee,  than  live  without  thee  I 

Fare  thee  well,  I'll  think  of  thee, 
Thou  leav'st  me  many  a  bitter  token  ; 

For  see,  distracting  woman  !  see, 
My  peace  is  gone,  my  heart  is  broken  ! 
Fare  thee  well ! 


I'D  MOURN  THE  HOPES  THAT  LEAVE  ME. 

I'd  mourn  the  hopes  that  leave  me, 

If  thy  smiles  had  left  me  too  : 
I'd  weep  when  friends  deceive  me, 

Hadst  thou  been  like  them  untrue. 
But  while  I've  thee  before  me, 

"With  heart  so  warm,  and  eyes  so  bright, 
No  clouds  can  linger  o'er  me, 

That  smile  turns  them  all  to  light. 

Tis  not  in  fate  to  harm  me, 

While  fate  leaves  thy  love  to  me  \ 
'Tis  not  in  joy  to  charm  me, 

Unless  joy  be  shar'd  with  thee.  I 


MINSTREL.  207 

One  minute's  dream  about  thee, 
Were  worth  a  long  and  endless  year, 

Of  waking  bliss  \\  itbout  thee. 
My  own  love,  my  only  dear  ! 

And  though  the  hope  be  gone,  love, 

That  long  sparkled  o'er  our  way, 
Ob  !  we  shall  journey  on,  love, 

.More  lately  without  its  ray. 
Far  better  lights  shall  win  me, 

Along  the  path  I've  yet  to  roam  ; 
The  mind  that  burns  within  me, 

And  pure  smiles  from  thee  at  home. 

Thus,  when  the  lamp  that  lighted 

The  traveller,  at  first  goes  out, 
He  feels  awhile  benighted, 

And  looks  around  in  fear  and  doubt. 
But  soon,  the  prospect  clearing, 

By  cloudless  star-light  on  he  treads, 
And  thinks  no  lamp  so  cheering 

As  that  light  which  Heaven  sheds  I        T.Moorc. 


ODE  TO  FREEDOM. 

When  Freedom  midst  the  battle  storm 

Her  weary  head  reclined  ; 
And  round  her  fair  majestic  form, 

Oppression  fain  had  twined  ; 


08  MINSTREL. 

Amidst  the  din— beneath  the  cloud, 

Great  Washington  appeared  ; 
With  daring  hand  rolled  back  the  shroud, 

And  thus  the  sufferer  cheered  I 

Spurn,  spurn  despair  I  be  great,  be  free  ! 
With  giant  strength  arise  ! 

Stretch,  stretch  thy  pinions,  Liberty, 
Thy  flag  plant  in  the  skies  ! 

Clothe,  clothe  thyself  in  glory's  robe, 
Let  stars  thy  banner  gem  ; 

Rule,  rule  the  sea— possess  the  globe- 
Wear  Victory's  diadem. 

Go  tell  the  world,  a  world  is  born, 

Another  orb  gives  light ; 
Another  sun  illumes  the  morn, 

Another  star  the  night ; 
Be  just,  be  brave  !— and  let  thy  name 

Henceforth  Columbia  be  ; 
Wear,  wear  the  oaken  wreath  of  Fame, 

The  wreath  of  Liberty  ! 

He  said— and  lo,  the  stars  of  night 

Forth  to  her  banner  flew  ; 
And  mom  with  pencil  dipt  in  light, 

The  blushes  on  it  drew  ; 
Columbia's  chieftain  seized  the  prize, 

All  gloriously  unfurled  : 
Soared  with  it  to  his  native  skies, 

And  waved  it  o'er  the  world.  Coffin* 


MINSTREL. 

KATE  OF  ABERDEEN. 

The  silver  moon's  enamour'd  beam 

Steals  softly  through  the  night, 
To  wanton  with  the  \\  inding  stream, 

And  kiss  reflected  light. 
To  beds  of  state  go,  balmy  sleep  ! 

'Tis  where  you've  seldom  been  ; 
May\  vigil  while  the  shepherds  keep 

"With  Kate  of  Aberdeen. 

Upon  the  green  the  virgins  wait, 

In  rosj  ehaplets  gay, 
Till  morn  unbars  her  golden  gate, 

And  gives  the  promised  May. 
Methinks  I  hear  the  maids  declare, 

The  promised  May,  when  seen, 
Not  half  so  fragrant,  half  SO  fair, 

As  Kate  of  Aberdeen. 

Strike  up  the  tabor's  boldest  notes, 

We'll  rouse  the  nodding  grove  ; 
The  nested  birds  shall  raise  their  throats, 

And  hail  the  maid  I  love  ; 
And  see — the  matin  lark  mistakes, 

He  quits  the  tufted  green  : 
Fond  bird  !  'tis  not  the  morning  breaks, 

'Tis  Kate  of  Aberdeen. 

Now  lightsome  o'er  the  level  mead, 
"Where  midnight  fairies  rove, 

Vol.  I.  O 


SlO  3TREL. 

Like  them  the  jocund  dance  we'll  lead, 

Or  tune  the  reed  to  love  ; 
For  see  the  rosy  May  draws  nigh  : 

She  claims  a  virgin  queen  : 
And  hark  !  the  happy  shepherds  cry, 

?Tis  Kate  of  Aberdeen. 


HAD  I  A  HEART  FOR  FALSEHOOD. 

Had  I  a  heart  for  falsehood  framed, 

I  ne'er  could  injure  you  ; 
For,  though  your  tongue  no  promise  claim'd, 

Your  charms  would  make  me  true. 
To  yoti  no  soul  shall  bear  deceit, 

Xo  stranger  offer  wrong  ; 
But  friends  in  all  the  aged  you'll  meet, 

And  lovers  in  the  young. 

Bnt,  when  they  learn  that  you  have  bless'd 

Another  with  your  heart, 
They'll  bid  aspiring  passions  rest, 

And  act  a  brother's  part. 
Then,  lady,  dread  not  here  deceit, 

Xor  fear  to  suffer  wroncr  ; 
For  friends  in  all  the  aged  you'll  meet, 

And  lovers  in  the  young.  Sheridan* 


THE  BREWER'S  COACHMAN. 
Honest  William,  an  easy  and  good  natured  fellow, 
Would  a  little  I 


MINSTR]  811 

Body  coachman  was  he  to  an  eminenl  brew  ei , 

No  better  cVr  sat  on  a  coach  box«to  be  sure. 

His  coach  was  kept  clean  and  no  mothers  or  nurse* 

Took  more  care  of  their  bales  than  he  took  of  his 

horses  : 
He  had  these,  ay,  and  fifty  good  qualities  more, 
But  the  business  of  tippling  could  ne'er  be  got  o'er. 

So  his  master  effectually  mended  the  matter, 
By  hiring  a  man  who  drank  nothing  but  water  ; 
Now,  William,  says  he,  you  see  the  plain  case, 
Had  you  drank  as  he  dees  you'd  have  kept  a  good 

place. 
Drink  water  J  cried  William :  had  all  men  done  so, 
You'd  never  have  wanted  a  coachman  I  trow. 
They're  soakers  like  me,  whom  you  load   with   re- 
proaches, 
That  enable  you  brewers  to  ride  in  your  coaches. 


FROM  NIGHT  'TILL  MORN. 
From  night  'till  morn  I  take  my  glass, 
■  In  hopes  to  forget  my  Cbloe  ; 
But,  as  I  take  the  pleasing  draught, 
She's  ne'ertheless  before  me. 
Ah  !  no,  no,  no,  wine  cannot  cure 
The  pain  I  endure  for  my  Chloe. 

To  wine  I  flew  to  ease  the  pain 
Her  beauteous  charms  created  : 

But  wine  more  firmly  bound  the  chain, 
■\nd  love  would  not  be  cheated. 
\h  ?  no,  no.  no,  -. 


>  MINSTREL. 

OH  !     THOU  WERT  BORN. 
Oh  !  thou  wert  born  to  please  me, 

My  life,  my  only  love  ; 
Through  all  the  world  I'll  praise  thee, 

My  shepherd  of  the  grove. 

Thus  happy,  never  jealous, 

Dear  idol  of  my  heart, 
Can  any  harm  assail  us, 

My  life,  my  only  love  ! 

Feel  how  my  heart  is  beating", 

My  rural  queen  of  love! 
My  pulse  of  life  retreating, 

Our  bliss  shall  constant  prove. 

Thus  love  sweet  poison,  drinking, 

Dear  idol  of  my  heart, 
While  on  thy  bosom  sinking, 

My  life,  my  only  love. 


LOVE'S  A  TYRANT. 

That  love's  a  tyrant  I  can  prove, 
For  I  alas !   am  now  its  slave  ; 
Yet  glad  would  I  those  chains  remove, 
And  fearless  all  his  mandates  brave. 
For  the  urchin  will  vex  me, 
Torment  and  perplex  me, 
And,  ah  !  'tis  useless  to  complain. 
Though  love  is  teasing, 
Tis  also  pleasing, 
And  pleasure  yields  as  well  as  pain. 


MIKS1  REL. 

Amelia  daily  grows  more  fair, 
Yet  still  she  doe*  not  kinder  prove  ; 

I  sigh  and  pine,  and,  in  despair, 
Resolve  to  think  no  more  of  love. 
For  the  urchin,  &e. 


VARIETY. 
Ask  me  who  is  singing  here, 

Who  so  blight  can  thus  appear  ? 
1  am  the  child  of  joy  and  glee, 
And  my  names  Variety. 
Ne'er  have  I  a  clouded  face, 
Swift  I  change  from  place  to  place, 
Ever  wandering  ever  free, 
Such  am  I  Variety. 

Like  the  bird  that  skims  the  air, 
Here  and  there  and  every  where, 
Sip  my  pleasure  like  the  bee, 
Notldng's  like  Variety* 
Love, sweet  passion  warms  my  breast, 
Roving  love  but  breaks  the  rest ! 
One  good  heart's  enough  for  me, 
Though  my  name's  Variety. 

Clouded  scenes  and  lonely  groves, 
Each  by  turn  I  do  approve— 
Follow,  follow,  follow  me, 
Friends  of  life,  Variety, 

Follow,  follow,  follow  me, 

Friends  of  life,  Variety. 


THE  SAILOR'S  JOURNAL. 
'Tvvas  past  meridian  half  past  four, 

By  signal  I  from  Nancy  parted, 
At  six  she  linger'd  on  the  shove, 

With  uplift  hands  and  broken-hearted  ; 
At  seven,  while  taught'ning  the  fore-stay, 

I  saw  her  faint,  or  else  'twas  fancy  ; 
At  eight  we  all  got  under  way, 

And  bid  a  long  adieu  to  Nancy. 

Night  came,  and  now  eight  bells  had  rung  ; 

When  careless  sailors  ever  cheery, 
On  the  mid-watch  so  jovial  sung, 

With  tempers  labour  cannot  weary  ; 
I  little  to  their  mirth  in clin'd, 

While  tender  thoughts  rush'd  on  my  fancy, 
And  my  warm  sighs  increas'd  the  wind, 

Look'd  on  the  moon  and  thought  of  Nancy. 

And  now  arriv'd  that  jovial  night, 

When  ev'ry  true  bred  tar  carouses, 
When  o'er  the  grog  all  hands  delight 

To  toast  their  sweet-hearts  and  their  spouses. 
Round  went  the  cann,  the  jest,  the  glee, 

While  tender  wishes  fill'd  each  fancy, 
And  when  in  turn  it  came  to  me, 

I  heav'd  a  sigh  and  toasted  Nancy. 

Next  morn  a  storm  came  on  at  four, 

At  six  the  elements  in  motion, 
Plung'd  me  and  three  poor  sailors  more, 

Headlong  into  the  foaming  ocean  ; 


MINSTREL. 

>n  found  their  graven, 
To  me,  it  may  be  only  fancy, 

I5ut  Iu\  e  seem'd  to  forbid  the  waves, 
To  snatch  me  from  the  arms  of  Nancy. 

Scarce  the  foul  hurricane  was  clear'd, 

And  winds  and  wave  had  ceas'd  to  rattle, 
When  a  bold  enemy  appeared, 

And,  dauntless  we  prepaid  for  battle  ; 
And  now  while  some  lov'd  friend  or  wife, 

Lik a  lightening rush'd  on  ev'ry  fancy, 
To  Providence  I  trusted  life, 

Put  up  a  prayer  and  thought  on  Nancy. 

At  last,  'twas  in  the  month  of  May, 

The  crew,  it  being  lovely  weather, 
At  three  A.  M.  discovered  day, 

And  England's  chalky  cliffs  together, 
At  seven  up  channel,  now  we  bore, 

While  hopes  and  fears  rush'd  on  my  fancy, 
At  twelve  I  gaily  jump'd  onshore, 

And  to  my  throbbing  heart  prcss'd  Nancy. 


I  WONT  BE  A  NUN. 
Now  is  it  not  a  pity  such  a  pretty  girl  as  I, 
Should  be  sent  to  a  nunnery  to  pine  away  and  die  ; 
13 ut  I  won't  be  a  nun— no,  I  won't  be  a  nun — 
I'm  so  fond  of  pleasure  that  I  cannot  be  a  nun. 

I'm  sure  I  cannot  tell  what's  the  mischief  I  have  done, 
But  my  mother  often  tells  me  that  I  must  be  a  nun. 
But  I  wont  be  a  nun,  &c. 


216  MINSTREL. 

I  could  not  bear  confinement,  it  would  not  do  for  me, 
For  I  like  to  go  a  shopping,  and  to  see  what  I  can  see. 
So  I  won't  be  a  nun,  Sec. 

I  love  to  hear  men  flattering— love  fashionable  clothes, 
I  love  music  and  dancing,  and  chatting  with  the  beaus. 
So  I  can't  be  a  nun,  &c . 

So  mother  don't  be  angry  now,but  let  your  daughter  be, 

For  the  nuns  would  not  like  to  have  a  novice  wild  as  me. 

And  I  can't  be  a  nun— no,  I  won't  be  a  nun, 

I'm  so  fond  of  pleasure  that  I  cannot  be  a  nun. 


THE  TOAST. 

Here's  to  the  maiden  of  bashful  fifteen, 

Here's  to  the  widow  of  fifty  ; 
Here's  to  the  bold  and  extravagant  queen, 
And  here's  to  the  housewife  that's  thrifty. 
Let  the  toast  pass, 
Drink  to  the  lass, 
I  warrant  she'll  prove  an  excuse  for  the  glass. 

Here's  to  the  maiden  whose  dimples  we  prize, 

Likewise  to  her  that  has  none,  sir  ;    m 
Here's  to  the  maid  with  a  pair  of  black  eyes, 

And  to  her  that  has  only  but  one,  sir. 
Let  the  toast  pass.  &c. 
Here's  to  the  maid  with  a  bosom  of  snow, 

And  to  her  that's  as  brown  as  a  berry  ; 
Here's  to  the  wife  with  a  face  full  of  wo, 

And  here's  to  the  girl  that  is  merry. 
Let  the  toast  pass,  &c. 


MINSTREL. 

Let  her  be  clumsy,  or  let  her  be  thin, 
Young  or  ancient,  I  care  not  a  feather  ; 

So  fill  a  pint  bumper  quite  up  to  the  brim, 
And  e*en  let  us  toast  them  together. 
Let  the  toast  pass,  See. 


THE  WAY-WORN  TRAVELLER. 
Faint  and  wearily  the  way-worn  traveller, 

Plods,  uneheerily,  afraid  to  stop  ; 
Wand'ring  drearily,  and  sad  unraveller, 

Of  the  maze  towards  the  mountain's  top. 
Doubting,  fearing,  while  his  course  he's  steering, 

Cottages  appearing  as  he's  nigh  to  drop— 
Oh  !  how  briskly  then  the  way-worn  traveller 

Treads  the  maze  towards  the  mountain's  top. 

Though  so  melancholy  day  has  pass'd  by, 

'Twould  be  folly  to  think  on't  more, 
Blithe  and  jolly  he  the  can  holds  fast  by, 

As  he's  sitting  at  the  goatherd's  door ; 
Eating,  quaffing,  at  past  labour  laughing, 

Better  far  by  half  in  spirits  than  before — 
Oh  !  how  merrily  the  rested  traveller 

Sings  while  sitting  at  the  goatherd's  door. 


THOUGH  THE  LAST  GLIMPSE  OF  ERIN. 
Though  the  last  glimpse  of  Erin  with  sorrow  I  see, 
Yet  wherever  thou  art,  shall  seem  Erin  to  me  : 


MINSTREL. 

In  exile,  thy  bosom  shall  still  be  my  home, 

And  thine  eyes  be  my  climate  wherever  we  roam. 

To  the  gloom  cf  some  desert,  or  cold  rocky  shore, 
Where  the  eye  of  the  stranger  can  haunt  us  no  more, 
I  will  fly  with  my  Coulin,  and  think  the  rough  wind 
Less  rude  than  the  foes  we  leave  frowning  behind. 

And  I'll  gaze  on  thy  gold  hair  as  graceful  it  wreathes, 
And  hang  o'er  thy  soft  harp  as  wildly  it  breathes  ; 
Nor  dread  that  the  cold-hearted  Saxon  will  tear 
One  cord  from  that  harp,  or  one  lock  from  that  hair. 

T.  Moore . 


THE  BRAES  O'  BALLOCHMYLE. 
The  Catrine  woods  were  yellow  seen, 

The  flowers  decay'd  on  Catrine  lee, 
Nae  lav'rock  sang  on  hillock  green, 

But  nature  sicken'd  on  the  e'e. 
Thro*  faded  groves  Maria  sang, 

Hersel  in  beauty's  bloom  the  while, 
And  ay  the  wild-wood  echoes  rang, 

Fareweel  the  braes  o*  Ballochmyle  ! 

Low  in  your  wintry  beds  ye  flowers, 

Again  ye'll  flourish  fresh  and  fair  ; 
Ye  birdies  dumb,  in  withering  bowers, 

Again  ye'll  charm  the  vocal  air. 
But  here,  alas  I  for  me  nae  mair, 

Shall  birdie  charm,  or  flow'ret  smile  ; 
Fareweel  the  bonny  banks  of  Ayr, 

Fareweel, fareweel  !  sweet  Ballochmyle! 

Burns. 


[NSTREL.  Wfl 

SINCE  THEN  I'M  DOOM'D. 
Since  then  I'm  doom' d  this  sad  reverse  to  prove, 

To  quit  each  object  of  my  infant  care  ; 
Torn  from  an  honour'd  parent's  tender  love, 

And  driven  the  keenest  storms  of  fate  to  bear  : 
Ah  !  but  forgive  me,  pitied  let  me  part, 
Your  frowns  too  sure,  would  break  my  sinking  heart. 

Where'er  I  go,  whate'er  my  lowly  state, 

"  ful  mem'ry  still  shall  linger  here  ! 
u,  ]>erhaps,  you're  musing  o'er  my  fate, 
You  st ill  may  greet  me  w  ith  a  tender  care. 
Ah  !  then  forgive  me,  pitied  let  me  part, 
Your  frowns  too  sure,  would  break  my  sinking  heart. 


THE  DAY  RETURNS. 

The  day  returns,  my  bosom  bums, 

The  blissful  day  we  twa  did  meet ; 
Tho'  winter  wild  in  tempest  toil'd, 

Ne'er  simmer  sun  was  hauf  sae  sweet. 
Than  a'  the  pride  that  loads  the  tide, 

And  crosses  o'er  the  sultry  line, 
Than  kingly  robes,  than  crowns  and  globes  ; 

Heav'n  gave  me  more,  it  made  thee  mine. 

While  day  and  night  can  bring  delight, 

Or  nature  aught  of  pleasure  give  ; 
While  joys  above  my  mind  can  move, 
Fot  thee  and  thee  alone  I  : 


'  MINSTREL. 

When  that  grim  foe  of  life  below. 

Comes  in  between  to  make  us  part, 
The  iron  hand  that  breaks  our  band, 

It  breaks  my  bliss— it  breaks  my  heart ! 


SALLY  ROY. 

Fair  Sally,  once  the  village  pride, 

Lies  cold  and  wan  in  yonder  valley  ; 
She  lost  her  lover,  and  she  died— 

Grief  broke  the  heart  of  gentle  Sally, 
Young  Valiant  was  the  hero's  name, 

For  early  valour  fir'd  the  boy, 
Who  barter'd  all  his  love  for  fame. 

And  kill:d  the  hope  of  Sally  Roy, 

Swift  from  the  arms  of  weeping  love, 

As  rag'd  the  war,  in  yonder  valley, 
He  rush'd  his  martial  power  to  prove, 

While,  faint  with  fear,  sunk  lovely  Sally  ? 
At  noon  she  saw  the  youth  depart ; 

At  eve  she  lost  her  darling  joy— 
Ere  night  the  last  throb  of  her  heart, 

Declar'd  the  fate  of  Sally  Roy. 

The  virgin  train,  in  tears  are  seen, 

While  yellow  moon-light  f^.ls  the  valley, 
Slow  stealing  o'er  the  dewy  green, 

Towards  the  grave  of  gentle  Sally. 
And  while  remembrance  wakes  the  sigh, 

Which  weans  each  feeling  heart  from  joy  ; 
The  mournful  dirge,  ascending  high, 

Bewails  tht  fate  of  Sally  Roy  .'  Ronnie. 


MINSTRE1  . 


THE   GARDEN  GATE. 

The  day  was  spent,  the  moon  shone  bright, 

The  village  clock  struck  eight, 
When  Mary  hastened  with  delight, 
Unto  the  garden  gate. 
Rut  none  was  there,  which  made  her  sad, 
The  gate  was  there  but  not  the  lad, 
Which  made  poor  Mary  say  and  sigh, 
Was  any  poor  girl  so  sad  as  I. 

Rut  none  was  there,  &c. 

She  paced  the  garden  o'er  and  o'er, 

The  village  clock  struck  nine, 
Which  made  poor  Mary  sigh  and  say, 
You  shan't,  you  shan't,  be  mine, 
You  piomis'd  to  meet  me  here  at  eight, 
You  shan't  deceive  or  make  me  wait, 
tor  I'll  let  all  such  creatures  see, 
You  ne'er  shall  make  a  fool  of  me, 
For  you  promised,  8cc. 

She  paced  the  garden  o'er  and  o'er, 

The  village  clock  struck  ten, 
When  William  caught  her  in  his  arms, 
Never  to  part  again, 
For  he'd  been  to  buy  the  ring  that  day, 
Oh  !  he  had  been  such  along  long  way. 
O  !  how  could  Mary  so  cruel  prove, 
To  banish  the  lad  she  so  dearly  loved. 
For  he  had  been  to  buy,  &c. 


222  MINSTR] 

Now  when  the  morning  bells  did  ring, 
To  church  they  went  straightway, 

And  all  the  villagers  did  sing, 
Upon  that  happy  day. 
Now  in  a  cot  by  the  rivpr  side, 
Young  William  and  Mary  do  reside. 
And  she  blesses  the  hour  that  she  did  wait, 
For  her  true  love  at  the  garden  gate. 


SIC  A  WIFE  AS  WILLIE  HAD. 
Willie  Wastle  dwelt  on  Tweed, 

The  spot  they  call'd  it  Linkumdoddie, 
Willie  was  a  wabstergude, 

Cou'd  stone  a  clue  wi'  ony  bodie  ; 
He  had  a  wife  was  dour  and  din, 
O  tinkler  Madgie  was  her  mither  ; 
Sic  a  wife  as  Willie  had, 
1  wad  na  gie  a  button  for  her. 

She  has  an  e'e,  she  has  but  ane, 
The  cat  has  twa  the  very  colour ; 

Five  rusty  teeth  forbye  a  stump, 
A  clapper  tongue  wad  deave  a  miller  ; 

A  whiskin'  beard  about  her  mou', 
Her  nose  and  chin  they  threaten  ither  ; 
Sic  a  wife,  Bee. 

She's  bow-hough'd,  she's  hein  shinn'd, 
Ae  limpin'  leg  a  hand  breed  shorter  ; 

She's  twisted  right,  she's  twisted  left, 
To  balance  fair  in  ilka  quarter  : 


,  REL, 

She  lias  a  hump  upon  her  breast, 
Tin  i  win  o'  that  upon  her  Bhouther  : 
Sic  a  wife,  iVc. 
Aiild  baudrans  by  the  ingie  sits, 

An  \\  i'  her  loof  her  face  a  washing  ; 
But  Willie's  wife  is  nae  sae  trig, 

She  (lights  her  grunzie wr  a  hushion  ; 
Her  walk  nieves  like  midden-creels, 
Her  face  wad  fyle  the  Logan-water  ; 
Sic  a  wife  as  Willie  had, 
I  wad  na  gie  a  button  for  her. 


Burn?. 


MASONIC  SONG. 

All  hail  to  the  morning 

That  bids  us  rejoice  ; 

The  temple's  completed, 

Exalt  high  each  voice  ; 

The  cap-stone  is  fmish'd, 

Our  labour  is  o'er  ; 
The  sound  of  the  gravel 
Shall  hail  us  no  more, 
o  the  power  Almighty,  who  ever  has  guided 
The  tribes  of  old  Israel,  exalting  their  fame. 
o  him  who  hath  govenvd  our  hearts  undivided, 
Let's  send  forth  our  voices,  to  praise  his  great  name. 
Companions,  assemble 

On  this  joyful  day, 
(Th*  occasion  is  glorious) 
The  key-stone  to  lay  ; 

IFulftlPd  h  the  prep 


224  MINSTREL, 

To  bring  forth  the  cap-stone, 

"With  shouting  and  praise. 

There's  no  more  occasion  for  level  or  plumb  line, 

For  trowel  or  gravel,  for  compass  or  square  ; 
Our  works  are  completed,  the  Ark  safely  seated, 
And  ye  shall  be  greeted  as  workman  most  rare. 

Xow  those  that  are  worthy, 
Our  toils  who  have  shard. 

And  prov'd  themselves  faithful, 
Shall  meet  their  reward. 

Their  virtue  and  knowledge, 
Industry  and  skill, 

Have  your  approbation, 
Have  gain'd  your  good  will. 
We  accept  and  receive  the  Most  Excellent  Masters, 

Invested  with  honours,  and  power  to  preside  ; 
Among  worthy  craftsmen,  wherever  assembled, 
The  knowledge  of  masons  to  spread  far  and  wide. 

Almighty  Jehovah, 

Descend  now,  and  fill 
This  lodge  with  thy  glory, 

Our  hearts  with  good  will  ! 
Preside  at  our  meetings, 

Assist  xis  to  find 
True  pleasure  in  teaching 
Good  will  to  mankind. 
Thy  wisdom  inspired  the  great  institution, 

Thy  strength  shall  support  it,  till  nature  expire  ; 
And  when  the  creation  shall  fall  into  ruin, 
Its  beauty  shall  rase  through  the  midst  of  the  fire  ! 

Webb. 


MINSTREL.  225 

BUY  A  BROOM. 

Sung  by  Mrs.  Knight. 
Pretty  Lady,  Pretty  Gentleman, 
From  mine  Vaterland  I  do  brine; 
De  littel  broom  so  new,  so  bran, 
And  buy  a  broom  ?  I  sing. 

Buy  a  broom. 

Pretty  littel  broom  is  of  much  use, 
When  your  lover  go  astray, 
Should  de  fond  one  evar  you  abuse, 
You  den  whip  him  away, 

Wid  de  broom. 

I  once  had  a  sworn  true  lover, 
But  he  soon  false  prove  to  me, 
So  I  cross'd  dat  big  see  over, 
Hoping  truer  friends  to  see, 

Den  buy  my  broom  ? 

Knight. 


LOVE  WAS  ONCE  A  LITTLE  BOY. 
Sung  by  Mrs.  Knight, 
'.ove  was  once  a  little  boy,  Heigh-ho,  Heigh-ho ; 
Then  with  him  'twasjsweet  to  toy,  Heigh-ho,  Heigh-ho; 
I  le  was  then  so  innocent, 
Not  as  now  on  mischief  bent, 
Free  he  came  and  harmless  went, 

Heigh-ho,  Heigh-ho. 

ol.    1  P 


226  MINSTREL. 

Love  is  now  a  little  man,  Htigh-ho,  Heigh-ho, 
And  a  very  saucy  one,  Heigh-ho,  Heigh-ho ; 
He  walks  so  stiff  and  looks  so  smart, 
As  if  he  own'd  each  maiden's  heart, 
I  wish  he  felt  his  own  keen  dart, 

He  igh-ho,  Heigh-ho. 

Love  will  soon  be  growing  old,  Heigh-ho,  Heigh-ho  ; 
Half  his  life's  already  told,  Heigh-ho,  Heigh-ho  , 

When  he's  dead  and  buried  too, 

What  shall  we  poor  maidens  do, 

Vm  sure  I  cannot  tell,  can  you, 

Heigh-ho,  Htigh-ho. 


SHALL  I  THOSE  BEAUTIES  PRIZE. 
Duett— Mr?.  Knight  and  Mr.  Povey, 
Shall  I  those  beauties  prize, 

That  I  can  ne'er  obtain  ; 
Or  love  those  sparkling  eye  s, 

That  glance  to  give  me  pain, 
Ah  no,  it  will  not  grieve  me, 

To  lose  so  false  a  heart ; 
Forget  thy  love  and  leave  me, 

For  ever  let  us  part. 

can  a  maid  coni 
In  such  a  haughty  youth. 
Who  own*  a  hmband's  pi 
Without  a  lover's  truth  . 


MINSTREL.  227 

Mi  no,  it  will  not  grieve  me, 

To  fcsc  so  false  a  heart, 
Forget  thy  love  and  leave  me, 
For  ever  let  us  part. 

Go  thou  to  him  who'll  share 
His  wealthy  store  with  thee, 
And  thou  to  some  lov'd  fair, 
An  humble  suitor  be. 


LET  FAME  SOUND  THE  TRUMPET. 

Sung  by  Mr.  Povcy. 
Let  fame  sound  the  trumpet  and  eiy'to  the  war, 
Let  glory,  let  glory  re-echo  the  strain, 
he  full  tide  of  honor  may  fill  from  the  scar, 
And  heroes  may  smite,  may  smile  on  their  pain. 
The  treasure  of  autumn  let  Bacchus  display, 

And  stagger  about  with  his  bowl, 

)n  science  let  Sol  beam  the  lustre  of  day, 

And  wisdom  give  light  to  the  soul. 

<.  t  India  unfold  her'rich  gems  to  ti^  view, 

Each  virtue,  each  joy  to  improve, 
h  !  give  me  the  friends  that  I  know  to  be  true, 

And  the  fair  that  I  tenderly  love, 
hat's  glory  but  pride,  a  vain  bubble  is  fame, 

And  riot,  the  pleasure  of  wine, 
rhat'a  riche3  but  trouble,  and  title"*  a  n 

But  fri^ndihip  andkrve'are  divine. 


M1NSTKKL. 

O   SOFTLY  SLKKP  MY  l'.ABV  BOY. 

Sung  by  Mrs.  Knight. 
O  softly  sleep  jny  baby  "boy,  roek'd  by  the  mountain 

wind, 
Thou  dream'st  not  of  u  Lever  false,  nor  of  a  world 

unkind. 
O  sweetly  sleep  my  baby  boy,  thy  Mother  guards  thy 

rest, 
Thy  fairy  clasp,  my  little  Joy,  shall  soothe  her  aching 

breast. 

Wake, wake  and  smile  my  baby  boy,  my  heavy  heart  to 

cheer. 
The  Wintry  blast  howls  on  the  hill,  the  leaf  grows  red 

and  sear. 
Oh,  lefl  me.  tell  me,  baby  boy,  how  shall  I  bear  thy  cry. 
When  hunger  gnaws  thy  little  Ik  ait,  and  death  light! 
on  thine  eye? 

Oh,  was  it  meet  my  baby  boy, 
That  thou  such  wierd  should'st  dree, 
Kind  Heaven  forgive  thy  father  false, 
His  wrongs  to  thee  and  me. 


THE  LAD  THAT  I  LOVE. 
Sung  by  Mrs,  Knight. 
The  lad  that  I  love  no  Lassie  shall  know  oh  ;  oh  ; 
The  path  that  he  treads  to  no  one  I'll  show,  oh;  oh  ; 
His  heart  is  all  truth  when  ever  we  m<  et, 
1  lun  why  should  new  faces  e'er  teach  him  deceit, 


MINSTREL.  2  2d 

Oh  ;  no,  I'll  keep  him  and  cherish  him  so,  oh  ;  oh  ; 
That  beauty  herself  sha'n't  tempt  him  to  go,  oh  ;  oh. 
The  church  is  hard  by,  I  very-  well  know,  oh  ;  oh  ; 
f  It  show'd  niethedoorandpress'dmyhand  so,  oh  ;  oh  ; 
Love,  honor,  obey,  are  the  words  to  be  said, 
And  I'll  say  'em  and  keep  'em  whenever  I  wed, 
That  is,  if  I  marry  the  man  that  I  know,  oh  ;  oh  ; 
If  not  poor  soul  I  shall  bother  him  so,  oh ;  oh  ; 
My  fortune's  my  face  which  I  hope  I  may  show,  oh;  oh ; 

Tis  horn  st  and  that  is  a  treasure  I  know,oh  ;  oh  ; 
his  poor  little  hand  is  all  I  can  give, 
And  \\  hen-  I  once  pledge  it,  it  ever  shall  live, 

'or  die  1 1<  art's  in  the  hand  I  mean  to  bestow,  oh  ;  oh  ; 

And  Hands  are  the  gifts  which  make  the  heart  glow, 
oh  ;  oh. 


NO   TOY  WITHOUT  MY  LOVE. 
Sung  by  Mr,  Povey. 
If  not  with  thee  I'm  blest, 
In  vain  I  twine  the  bow'r, 
[f  no1  t<»  deck  thy  br«  ast, 
In  vain  I  wreathe  the  flow's, 
Such  sc<  nts  ai  these  no  joys  can  prove, 
On  earth  no  joy,  no  joy  without  my  love. 

Awakened  by  the  genial  year, 

The  warblers  tiiil  tin  ir  lay  ; 

The  verdant  fields  bedeck'd  appear, 

With  all  the  sweets  of  May  ; 
Such  scen<  s  as  ih  se  no  joys  can  prove. 
On  earth  no  joy  $  no  joy  without  or] 


230  MINSTREL. 

AID  ME  YE  PITYING  POWERS. 

Su?ig  by  Mrs.  Knight. 
Aid  me  ye  pitying  powers,  affection  here  subdue, 
And  in  his  faithless  heart  the  name  of  love  renew. 

My  soul  with  sorrow  laden, 

Repose  must  seek  in  vain  ; 

Ah  I  ne'er  let  simple  maiden 

Relieve  in  man  again: 

They  sigh  but  to  decieve  us, 

They  woo  but  to  torment, 

And  when  we  love,  they  leave  us, 

Our  folly  to  repent; 

Their  vow's  are  all  pretended, 

The  youthful  heart  to  gain, 

Rut  when  the  charm  is  ended, 

The  victim  they  disdain. 


DEAR  MAID  I  LOVE  THEE. 
Duett— Mrs.  Knight  and  Mr.  Povcij. 
Dear  maid  by  ev'ry  hope  of  bliss, 
Dy  love's  first  pledge  the  virgin  kiss, 

Ry  Heaven  and  Earth  I  love  thee ; 
For  ever  in  this  heart  shall  dwell 
The  lovely  form  whose  charms  compel 
This  fault'ring  tongue  to  softly  tell, 

How  much  dear  maid  I  love  thee. 
Tho'  time  or  place  should  intervene, 
Still  time  that  changes  ev'ry  scene, 

Would  make  me  still  more  love  tin  e, 


MINSTREL.  231 

TW  far  apart  as  pole  from  pole, 
1  still  should  feel  thy  lov'd  control, 
While  my  devoted  constant  soul 
Would  but  exist  to  love  thee, 

While  my  devoted  constant  soul 
Would" but  exist  to  love  thee. 


WITH  HELMET  OX  HIS  BROW. 

Swig  by  Mr.  Povey. 
With  Helmet  on  his  brow,  and  sabre  on  his  tliigh, 
The  soldier  mounts  his  gallant  steed  to  conquer  or  to 

die: 

His  plume  like  a  pennon  streams  on  the  wanton  sum- 
mer wind, 
n  the  path  of  glory  still  that  white  plume  shalt  thou 

find; 

['hen  let  the  trumpet's  blast,  to  the  brazen  drum  reply, 
A  Soldier  must  with  honor  live,  or  at  once  with  honor 
die." 

bright  as  his  own  good  sword,  a  soldiers  fame  must 

be, 
nd  pure  as  the  plume  that  floats  above  his  helm,  so 

white  and  free, 
To  fear  in  his  heart  must  dwell,  but  the  dread  that 

shame  may  throw 
ne  spot  upon  that  blade  60  bright,  one  stain  on  that 

plume  of  snow  ; 
hen  let  the  trumpet's  blast,  to  the  brazen  drum  reply, 
V  soldier  must  with  honor  live,  or  nt  once  with  honor 


MINSTREL. 

O  GREEN  WERE  THE  GROVES. 

Sung  by  Mr.  Povey. 
O,  green  are  the  groves  where  with  Rosa  I  stray 'd, 

And  bright  are  the  hills  all  around, 
The  fields  and  the  rallies  are  gaily  array 'd, 

And  fresh  flow'rets  enamel  the  ground. 
But  my  Rosa  is  gone,  and  left  me  forlorn, 

To  roam  the  most  wretched  of  men, 
The  flowers  of  hope  from  my  bosom  are  torn , 

And  they  never  shall  blossom  again. 

The  birds  sing  as  sweetly  on  ev'ry  green  thorn, 

The  brook  steals  as  soft  thro'  the  grove, 
The  sun  shines  as  bright,  and  as  sweet  smiles  the  mnm, 

As  they  did  when  I  roam'd  with  my  lovt ; 
But  my  Rosa  is  gone,  and  left  me  forlorn, 

To  roam  the  most  wretched  of  men, 
The  flowers  of  hope  from  my  bosom  are  torn, 

And  they  never  shall  blossom  again. 


CANZONET, 

Thine  am  I,  my  faithful  fair, 
Thine,  my  lovely  Nancy  ; 

Every  pulse  along  my  veins, 
Every  roving  fancy. 

To  thy  bosom  lay  my  heart. 
There  to  throb  and  languish  ; 

Though  despair  had  wraag 
Th&t  I 


MINSTREL. 

Take  away  those  rosy  lips, 
Rich  with  balmy  treasure  . 

Turn  away  thine  eyes  of  love, 
Least  I  die  with  pleasure. 

What  is  life  when  wanting  lore, 

Night,  without  a  morning  ; 
Lore's  the  cloudless  summer  sun, 
Nature  gay  adorning. 


WITHIN  A  MILE. 

Twas  within  a  mile  of  Edinburgh  town, 

In  the  rosy  time  of  the  year, 

Sweet  flowers  bloonvd  and  the  grass  was  down, 

And  each  shepherd  woo'd  his  dear  : 

Bonny  Jockey,  blythe  and  gay, 

Kiss'd  sweet  Jenny  making  hay  ; 

The  lassie  blush'd  and  frowning  cry'd, 

No,  no,  it  will  not  do  ; 
I  cannot,  cannot,  wonnot,  wonnot,  mannot  buckle  to. 

Jockey  was  a  wag  that  never  would  wed, 
Though  long  he  had  follow  'd  the  lass  : 
j  Contented  she  earn'd  and  ate  her  brown  bread, 
And  merrily  turn'd  up  the  grass  : 
Bonny  Jockey,  blythe  and  free, 
Won  her  heart  light  merrily, 
|  Yet  still  she  blush'd,  and  frowning  cry'd, 

Xo,  no,  it  will  not  do ; 
II  cannot,  cannot,  wonnot,  wonnot,  mannot  buckle  t<>. 


234  MINSTREL. 

But  when  he  vow'd  he  would  make  her  bia  bride, 

Though  his  flocks  and  herds  were  not  few, 
She  gave  him  her  hand,  and  a  kiss  beside, 
And  vow'd  she'd  for  ever  be  true. 
Bonny  Jockey,  blythe  and  free, 
Won  her  heart  right  merrily. 
At  church  she  no  more  frowning  cry'd, 

No,  no,  it  will  not  do  ; 
I  cannot,  cannot,  wonnot,  wonnot  mannot  buckle  to 


ADOWN  IN  THE  VALLEY. 
Did  you  ne'er  hear  a  tale,  how  a  lad  in  the  vale 

Ask'd  a  damsel  to  grant  him  a  kiss, 
When  this  pretty  maid  cried, '  No,  it  must  be  denied,' 

Yet  all  the  while  wish'd  to  say  k  yes  ;' 
For  when  on  her  pillow,  she  sigh'd  for  the  willow, 

Where  Edward  first  saw  pretty  Sally, 
Or  rathe   in  truth  she  sigh'd  for  the  youth 

Adown  adown  down  in  the  valley  ? 

Did  you  ne'er  hear  it  said,  when  he  ask'd  her  to  wed> 

And  told  her  true  love  prompted  so, 
How  this  silly  maid  spoke,  to  lie  sure  't  was  in  joke, 

For  she  answer'd  him  '  Shepherd,  no,  no.' 
Yet  when  on  her  pillow  she  sigh'd  for  the  willow, 

Where  Edward  first  saw  pretty  Sally, 
Oh  rather-m  truth,  she  sigh'd  for  the  youth 

Adown  adown  down  in  the  valley  ? 

But  ah  !  now  you  shall  find  how  this  maid  changed 
her  mind, 
When  n  twelvemonth  had  pass'd  after  this : 


MINSTREL.  2; 

1  01  when  he  next  press'd  at  the  church  to  be  Meat, 
'  Oh,'  she  answer'd,  c  dear  shepherd,  yes,  yes !' 

Nor  when  on  her  pillow,  more  sigh'd  for'the  willow 
Where  Edward  first  saw  pretty  Sally  ; 

But  hlest  the  fond  day  they  to  church  flew  away, 
A  down  adown  down  in  the  valley. 


KATE,  THE  WOODMAN'S  DAUGHTER. 

Air—  Moggy  Laivder. 
Within  yon  cottage  dwells  a  maid, 

Mon-  sweet  than  roses  blooming, 
With  beauty's  blended  channs  array 'd, 

And  yet  she's  unassuming. 
Tli  is  lovely  ti-ace  of  mental  grace, 

Which  fost'ring  nature  taught  her, 
Bids  every  swain  attune  his  strain, 

To  Kate,  the  Woodman's  daughter. 

Rut  let  them  woo  her  if  they  will, 

To  me  her  troth  is  plighted  ; 
And  what  she's  promis'd  she'll  fulfil, 

By  her  no  vows  are  blighted. 
This  lovely  trace  of  mental  grace 

Was  planted  ere  I  sought  her, 
For  virtue's  hand  attempted  bland 

Sweet  Kate  the  Woodman's  daughter. 

Oh  !  let  the  monarch  fill  his  throne, 

The  miser  keep  his  treasures, 
Let  me  but  call  sweet  Kate  my  own, 

I'll  envy  not  their  pleasures  , 


MINSTREL. 

For  e'en  the  trace  of  mental  grace 
For  which  the  swains  have  sought  her, 

Shall  be  the  dower,  th'  attractive  pow'r 
Of  Kate,  the  Woodman's  daughter. 


LOVE  AND  GLORY. 

Young  Henry  was  as  brave  a  youth 
As  ever  graced  a  martial  story, 

And  Jane  was  fair  as  spotless  truth- 
She  died  for  love,  and  he  for  glory. 

With  her  his  faith  he  meant  to  plight, 
And  told  her  many  a  gallant  story, 

Rut  war,  their  honest  joys  to  blight, 
Call'd  him  away  from  love  to  glory. 

Young  Henry  met  the  foe  with  pride, 
Jane  follow'd— fought !  (a  hapless  story) : 

In  man's  attire,  by  Henry's  side, 
She  died  for  love,  and  he  for  glory. 


CALL  AGAIN  TO-MORROW. 

I'll  to  Court  among  all  the  nobility, 

Hold  up  my  head  with  the  best, 
Learn  politeness  and  all  incivility, 

And  be  most  presumptously  drest. 
Spoken.— Then  I  shall  get  an  officious  situation,  and 
expense  favours  and  places  like  other  great  men ;  but 
if  they  oft*  r  me  a  bribe,  as  I  am  above  all  incorruption, 
I  shall,  like  my  betters, pocket  the  affront  with 


MINS1  REL. 

Call  again  to-morrow 

Can't  you  ? 
Call  again  to  morrow. 

A II  ranks  and  degrees  of  the  quality 

To  ail  my  routs  I'll  invite, 
\nd  have,  with  true  in  hospitality, 
Public  breakfast  at  seven  at  night. 

en— It  will  be  pretty  expensive,  and  I  may  over- 
run  the  constable*  ;  but  to  pay  debts  is  unfashionable 
i  i  w  hen  a  dim  knocks  at  the  door,  I  shall  look  out  of 
ili*  window  and  say 

Call  again  to  morrow 

Can't  you  ? 
Call  again  to  morrow. 

I'll  then,  to  support  my  indignity, 
My  hand  to  some  heiress  expose  ; 
Then,  with  all  proper  pride  and  benignity, 

On  old  friends  I'll  turn  up  my  nose. 
Spoken.— Conscience  may  tease  me  a  little,  but  it's  all 
dicky  with  that  in  the  new  school  -  common  sense  and 
common  honesty  may  do  for  common  folks,  but  with 
us  people  ofsnpefogatory  rank  it's  all 
Call  again  to  morrow 

Can't  you  ? 
Call  again  to  morrow. 


THE  HOSK  OF  THE   VALLEY. 

■  of  the  valley  in  spring  time  was  gay. 
The  rbx  of  the  rallej  It  wither'd  v* 


238  MINSTREL. 

The  swains  all  admired  it,  its  praises  repeat, 

An  emblem  of  virtue  so  simple  and  sweet ; 

But  a  blight  marr'd  the  blossom,  and  soon,  wcll-a-day  ! 

The  rose  of  the  valley  it  withered  away. 

The  rose  of  the  valley  a  truth  can  impart, 
By  the  rose  of  the  valley- 1  picture  my  heart ; 
The  sun  of  content  cheer'd  the  morn  of  its  birth, 
By  innocence  render'd  a  heaven  on  earth  ; 
But  virtue  and  peace  left  the  spot,  well-a-day ! 
And  the  rose  of  the  valley  it  wither'd  away. 


MR.  AND  MRS.  TICK. 
Mrs.  Waddle  was  a  widow,  and  she  made  no  little  gain, 
She  kept  a  tripe  and  trotter  shop  in  chick-a-biddy  lane! 
Her  next  door  neighbour,  Tommy  Tick,  a  tallow  man 

was  he,  t 

And  he  ax'd  Mrs.  Waddle  just  to  take  a  cup  often. 
With  his  tiek-a-tee,  tick-a-tee, 
Tick  a  tiek-a-tee,  &c. 

Mrs.  Waddle  put  her  chintz  on,  and  sent  for  Sammy 

Sprig, 
The  titivating  barber,  to  frizify  her  wig ; 
Tommy  Tick  he  dress'd  in  pompadouv,  with  double 

chaimel'd  pumps, 
And  he  look'd  when  he\l  his  jazey  on,  just  like  the 

jack  of  trumps. 

With  his  tick-a-t<  i  *     • 


MINSTREL.  239 

Mi-.  Waddle  came  in  time  for  tea,  ami  down  they  sat 

together, 
They  talk'd  about  the  price  of  things,  the  fashions  and 

the  weather  ; 
She  staid  to  supper  too,  for  Tommy  Tick,  without  a 

doubt, 
Wasn't  one  of  them  who  axes  you  to  tea,  and  turns  yo 

out. 
With  his  tick-a-tee,  &c. 

So  TommyTick  he  won  her  heart,  and  they  were  mar- 
ried fast, 

And  all  so  loving  were  at  first,  folks  thought  it  couldn't 
last; 

They  had  words,  and  with  a  large  cow-heel  she  gave 
him  such  a  wipe, 

That  he  return'd  the  compliment  witli  half  a  yard  of 
tripe. 

With  his  tick-a-tee,  &c. 

She  took  him  to  the  justice  such  cruelty  to  cease, 

Who  bound  the  parties  over  to  keep  the  public  peace  ; 

But  Mrs.  Tick,  one  day,  inflamed  v\  ith  max  and  mug- 
gy weather, 

She  with  a  joint-stool  broke  the  peace,  and  Tommy'* 
head  together. 

With  his  tick-a-tcc,  &'c. 


THE  WHIF-CLUTj. 
a'sall  fiddle-de-dee, 
For  playing  :  mad< 


240  MINSTREL. 

But  w  lint's  to  become  of  poor  nie  i 

'Tis  the  fashion  to  take  up  my  trade. 
In  the  whip-club  exalted  I  stand, 

As  the  cut  of  my  coat  will  imply, 
And  while  driving,  d'ye  mind,  four  in  hand, 

Can  completely  cut  out  a  fly's  eye. 
Spoken.— Lord  Slum,  the  Honourable  Mr.  Snook, 
Sir  Thingumbob  What-d'ye-call-um,  and  I,  drive  tan- 
dem like  Phajtons  >  we  square  all  round,  and  cut  such 
figures  !  I  laugh,  he !  he  I  he  !  and  you'd  laugh,  ha  ! 
ha!  ha!  so  let's  all  laugh,  haw  !  haw!  haw!  Ehr  oh, 
tol  de  rol,  &e. 

Driving  tandem  one  day  in  a  gig, 

Full  spank  thro'  the  streets  went  the  tits, 
The  ponies  took  fright  at  a  pig, 

And  threw  an  old  woman  in  fits ; 
The  leader  broke  trace,  by  the  bye, 

And  down  a  blind  lane  t'other  scuds, 
Capsized,  down  a  cellar  went  I, 

Plump  into  a  tub  full  of  suds ! 

Spoken.— I  fell  like  another  Phaiton.  4  What  d'ye 
want  ?'  said  the  laundress  ;  '  A  drop  of  comfort, '  said 
I;  and  if  she  hadn't  given  it  me,  I  should  certainly  have 
died  of  a  dab-wash.  I  rose  from  the  suds  like  IVenvs  . 
from  the  sea  ;  and  I  laughed,  lie  !  he  !  he  !  and  the 
washer- woman  laughed,  &c. 

My  big  buttons  will  shew  my  degree 
In  the  whip-elub,  a  compact  sublime  ! 

And  for  choice  souls  what  better  can  be, 
Than  getting  the  whip-hand  oi*  Time  ? 


MINSTREL.  241 

Some  pretty  gape-seed  we  produce, 

Though  'tis  playing  the  fool  the  wise  toll  ; 
But  though  lords  have  for  that  no  excuse, 

With  me,  why  it's  all  very  well. 
Spoken.— IVs  all  in  my  way.  you  know  ;  I  play  the 
fool  to  shew  others  the  absurdity  of  it ;  cut  capers  to 
drive  away  care,  and  make  ugly  mugs  to  drive  away 
melancholy  ;  and  if  every*  one  on  life's  stage  acted  his 
part  with  such  zeal  and  fidelity,  and  endeavoured  like 
me  to  put  the  brightest  side  on  every  thing,  we  should 
all  be  so  happy—I  should  laugh,  he .  he  I  lie  I  &c. 

C,  Dibdin. 


THOMAS  CLUTTERBUCK  AND  POLLY 
HIGGINBOTTOM. 
In  Chester  town  a  man  there  dwelt, 

Not  rich  as  Crcesus,but  a  buck  ; 
The  pangs  of  love  he  clearly  felt— 

His  name  was  Thomas  Clutterbuck  ; 
The  lady  he  did  most  approve, 

Most  guineas  gold  had  got' em, 
And  Clutterbuck  fell  deep  in  love 

With  Polly  Higginbottom, 

O  Thomas  Clutterbuck  I 
O  Polly  Higginbottom ! 
I  sing  the  loves,  the  smiling  loves, 
Of  Clutterbuck  and  Higginbottom. 

A  little  trip  he  did  propose  ; 

Upon  the  Dee  they  got  'em ; 
I  he  wind  blew  high— he  blew  his  nose, 
And  sung-  to  Tolly  Higginbottom, 
V<A.  I,  q 


I  MINSTREL, 

The  strain  was  sweet,  the  stream  was  deep  , 

He  thought  his  notes  had  caught  her ; 
But  she,  alas  !  first  fell  asleep, 
And  then  fell— in  the  water. 
O  Polly  Higginbottom ! 
She  went  to  the  l:ottom  ; 
I  sing  the  death,  the  doleful  death, 
Of  pretty  Polly  Higginbotom  ! 

Yet  still  he  strain'd  his  little  throat, 

To  love  he  did  invite  her, 
And  never  miss'd  her,  till  Ins  boat 

He  thought  went  rather  lighter  ; 
But  when  he  saw  that  she  was  gone— 

The  summum  of  his  wishes, 
He  boldly  paid  the  waterman, 

And  jump'd  among  the  fishes. 

O  Polly  Higginbottom ! 
He  comes  to  the  bottom  ; 
I  sing  the  death,  the  double  death, 
Of  Clutterbuck  and  Higginbottom  : 

Round  Chester  stalk  the  river  ghosts 

Of  this  young  man  and  fair  maid  ; 
His  head  looks  like  a  salmon-trout, 

Her  tail  is  like  a  mermaid. 
Learn  this,  ye  constant  lovers  all, 

Who  live  on  England's  island  ; 
The  way  to  shun  a  watery  death, 

Is  making  love  on  dry  land  I 
O  Polly  Higginbottom, 
W  ho  lies  at  the  bottom  ! 
So  sing  the  ghosts— the  wattery  ghosts 

Of  Clutterbuck  and  Higginbottom. 


MINSTREL.  243 

ELEU  LORO. 

YIi.  iv  shall  the  lover  rest,  whom  the  fates  seror, 
•'rom  his  true  maiden's  hreast  parted  for  ever  ? 
Vhere,  thro'  groves  deep  Sc  high,  sounds  the  far  billow, 
Vhere  early  voilets  die,  under  the  willow. 

Eleu  loro,  &c.  Soft  shall  be  his  pillow. 

I'here,  thro"1  the  summer  day,  cool  streams  are  laving  ; 
rhere,to  the  tempest's  sway,  scarce  are  boughs  w  aving; 
/here,  thy  reft  shaltthou  take,  parted  for  ever, 
-evi  c  again  to  wake,  never,  O  never. 

Eleu  loro,  &c.  Never,  O  never. 

here  shall  the  traitor  rest,  he  the  deceiver, 
Vho  could  -win  maiden's  breast,  ruin,  and  leave  her  ? 
u  the  lost  battle,  borne  down  by  the  flying, 
There  mingles  war's  rattle  with  groans  of  the  dying, 
Eleu  loro,  &c.  There  shall  he  be  lying. 

er  wing  shall  the  eagle  flap  o'er  the  false-hearted  ? 
is  Mann  blood  the  wolf  shall  lap,  ere  life  be  parted. 
name  and  dishonour  sit  by  his  grave  ever  ; 
lessing  shall  hallow  it,  never,  O  never. 

Eleu  loro,  See.  Never,  O  never.  W.  Scott. 


WILLIAM  AND  MARY. 
Ere  sorrow  taught  my  tears  to  flow, 

They  call'd  me— happy  Mary  ; 
In  rural  cot,  my  humble  lot, 

I  play'd  like  any  fair)" : 


244  MINSTV  I 

And  when  the  sun,  with  gulden  my, 

Sunk  down  the  western  sky, 
Upon  the  green  to  dance  or  play, 

The  first  was  happy  I. 
Fond  as  the  dove  was  my  true  love, 

Oh  I  he  was  kind  to  me  ! 
And,  what  was  still  my  greater  pride, 
I  thought  I  should  be  William's  bride, 

When  he  return'd  from  sea. 

Ah,  what  avails  remembrance  now  ? 

It  lends  a  dart  to  sorrow  : 
My  once  lov'd  cot,  and  happy  lot, 

But  loads  with  grief  to-morrow. 
My  William's  buried  in  the  deep, 

And  I  am  sore  oppress'd  I 
Now  all  the  day  I  sit  and  weep, 

At  night  I  know  no  rest. 
I  dream  of  waves— and  sailors'  graves 

In  horrid  wrecks  I  see  ! 
And  when  I  hear  the  midnight  wind, 
All  comforts  flics  my  troubled  mind, 

For  William  lost  at  sea  ! 


GLEE. 

We'll  dance  around,  we  four  ; 
To'mirth  and  glee 
Give  welcome  free, 

And  show  old  care  th^  dood 


MINSTREL.  245 


I'.i  i- f  clouds  of  storm  or  rain 

We'll,  like  the  sun,  disdain  ; 

He  lets  them  fly, 

Or  shines  them  dry, 

And  looks  out  bright  again. 

We'll  dance  around,  &c. 

Misfortune's  visits  fall 
Alike  on  great  and  small, 

But  men  of  wit— 

The  devil  a  bit, 
Do  they  return  his  call. 

We'll  dance  around,  &c. 


BILLY  LACKADAY. 
Sure  mortal  man  was  born  to  sorrow, 
Grief  to  day  and  grief  to-morrow  ; 
flere  I'm  snubb'd  and  there  I'm  rated, 
NVer  was  youth  so  sittivated. 
rhere's  Mrs.  Bell  swears  none  shall  trick  her ; 
\nd  if  I  steeps  tny  nose  in  liquor, 
For  every  drop  I  take  she  charges, 
\nd  our  small  alt's  as  sour  as  warges, 

Lackaday,  oh,  Lackaday, 

Pity  Billy  Lackaday. 

Poor  Susan  scolds,  and  when  I've  heard  her, 

dreams  all  night  of  love  and  murder. 
[  sighs,  I  groans,  like  any  paviour, 
r'nrp  tinp  all  genteel  behaviour. 


146  MINSTREL. 

Miss  Fanny,  she  as  has  undone  me, 
Like  any  queen  looks  down  upon  me : 
And  when  I  kneels  to  ax  for  mercy, 
It  does  no  good,  but  ivice  xversay, 
Lackaday,  oh,  Lackaday, 
Pity  Billy  Lackaday. 


THY  CHEEK,  MY  SWEET  FAIR. 

Thy  cheek,  my  sweet  fair, 

To  the  rose  may  compare, 
And  thy  breath  may  its  fragrance  exhale  ; 

But  as  light  is  thy  mind, 

As  its  leaves  in  the  wind, 
That  yield  to  each  fluttering  gale. 

"  IVe  linger'd  to  toy 

"  With  the  promise  of  joy 

"  That  beam'd  in  the  glance  of  thine  eye  ; 
"  But  my  hopes  soon  have  fled, 
"  And  the  sweet  things  it  srlid 

M  How  quickly  thy  tongue  could  deny.1* 

Ah,  were  it  not  kind 

Thy  victims  to  find 
'Mid  the  triflers  around  thee  that  rove  ; 

So  false,  yet  so  fair— 

Ah,  why  would  you  snare 
A  heart  that  so  dearly  could  love  ! 


MINSTREL.  247 

ELLEN  O'MOORE. 

Ah,  soldiers  of  Britain,  your  merciless  doings 
Long,  long,  must  the  children  of  Erin  deplore ; 

Oh,  sad  is  my  soul  when  1  view  the  black  ruins 
Where  once  stood  the  cottage  of  Ellen  O'Moore. 

Her  father  (God  rest  him  !)  lov'd  Ireland  most  dearly, 
All  its  wrongs,  all  its  sufferings,  he  felt  most  severely, 

And  with  Freedom's  bold  sons  united  sincerely. 

i    But  gone  is  the  father  of  Ellen  O'Moore  1 

3ne  cold  winter's  night,  as  Dermotlay  nutting, 
Hoarse  curses  alarmed  him,  and  crash  went  the  door  ; 

The  fierce  soldiers  entcr'd,  and  straight  'gan  abusing 

'  The  brave  but  mild  father  of  Ellen  O'Moore  ! 

I'o  their  scoffs  he  reply'd  not— with  Wows  they  assail'd 
him  ; 
He  felt  all  indignant ;  his  caution  now  fail'd  him  ; 

le  retuni'd  their  sad  blows,  and  all  Munster  bewail'd 
him, 
For  stabb'd  was  the  father  of  Ellen  O'Moore. ! 

The  children's  wild  screams,  and  the  mother's  distrac- 
tion, * 
While  the  father,  the  husband,  lay  streteh'd  in  his 

gore! 
h  !  who  can  relate^  and  not  curse  the  foul  faction, 
That  blasted  this  rose  bud,  sweet  Ellen  O'Moore ! 
)  my  father,  my  father !  she  cries,  wildly  throwing 
Her  arms  round  his  neck,  while  hi*  lift*-*  blood  wn« 
flowing; 
the  kiss'dhis  cold  lips,  but  poor  Dermot  was  goincr, 
H*  groan'd,  and  left  fatherless  Ellen  O'M 


348  MINSTREL. 

With  destruction  uncloy'd,  this  infernal  banditti, 

Though  the  rain  fell  in  sheets,  and  the  temped  blew 
sore, 
Those  friends  to  the  castle,  but  foes  to  all  pity, 

Set  fire  to  the  dwelling  of  Ellen  O'Moore  I 
The  children,  the  mother,  half-naked,  and  shrieking, 

Escap'd  from  the  flames  where  Dermot  lay  reeking. 
And  while  these  poor  victims  for  shelter  were  seeking. 

Ah  !  mark  what  befel  poor  Ellen  O'Moore ! 

From  her  father's  pale  corpse,  which  her  lap  had  sup- 
ported, 

Relentless  the  ruffians  this  lovely  girl  bore : 
With  her  tears,  her  entreaties,  her  sorrows  they  sported. 

And  sad  was  the  fate  of  poor  Ellen  O'Moore  ! 
And  now  a  wild  maniac,  she  roams  the  wide  common. 

Gainst  the  soldiers  of  Britain  she  warns  ev'ry  woman. 
And  sings  of  her  father  in  strains  more  than  human, 

'Till  the  tears  overpower  poor  Ellen  O'Moore ! 

Oh,  ye  daughters  of  Erin,  your  country's  salvation, 

While  the  waves  of  old  ocean  shall  beat  round  youi 
shore, 
Remember  the  wrongs  of  thy  long  sbackl'd  nation, 

Remember  the  woes  of  poor  Ellen  O'Moore  I 
And  while  your  hearts  swell,  with  spirits  of  fire, 

Your  brothers,  your  lovers,  your  children  inspire, 
'Till  Union  shall  make  all  oppressors  retire 

From  the  soil  where  now  wanders  poor  Ellen  O* 
Moore. 


MINSTREL.  240 

GRAMACHREE. 
At  down  on  Banna's  banks  I  stray'd,  one  evening  in 

May, 
The  little  birds  in  blithest  notes  made  vocal  ev'ry'spray, 
They  sung  their  little  tales  of  love,  they  sung  them  o'er 

and  o'er, 
Ah !  gramachrce,  ma  hallenogue,my  Molly  Astore. 

The  daisy  pied,  and  all  the  sweets  which  bounteous 

nature  yields, 
The  primrose  pale,  and  vi'letblue,  lay  scattered  o'er 

the  fields, 

Such  fragrance  in  the  bosom  lies  of  her  whom  I  adore, 
Ah !  gramachree,  &c. 

I  laid  me  down  upon  a  bank,  bewailing  my  sad  fate, 

That  doom'd  me  thus  the  slave  of  love,  and  cruel  Mol- 
ly's hate  : 

How  can  she  break  the  honest  heart  that  wears  her  in 
its  core  ? 
Ah  !  gramachree,  &c. 

You  said  you  lov'd,  me  Molly  dear,  Ah!  why  did  I  be- 
lieve? 

Yet  who  could  think  such  tender  words  were  meant 
but  to  deceive  ? 

Your  love  was  all  I  ask'd  on  earth,  nay,  heav'n  could 
give  no  more, 
Ah  >.  gramachree,  &c, 

O  had  I  all  the  flocks  that  graze  on  yonder  yellow  hil 
Oi  lcm'd  fur  me  thenum'rous  herds  that  yon  greo 
pasture  fill ; 


250  MINSTREL. 

Willi  her  1  love,  I'd  gladly  share  my  kine  and  fleecy 
store. 
Ah  I  gramachree,  &c. 

Two  turtle  doTes,  above  my  head,  sat  courting  on  a 

bough, 
I  envy  them  their  happiness,  to  see  them  bill  and  coo ; 
Such  fondness  once  for  me  she  show'd,  but  now,  alas  .' 
'tis  o'er. 
Ah !  gramachrec,'h.z. 


SWEET  ANNIE. 
Sweet  Annie  frae  the  sea-beach  came, 

Where  Jockey  speei'd  the  vessel's  side, 
Ah !  wha  can  keep  their  heart  at  hame, 

Whan  Jockey's  tost  aboon  the  tide  ? 
Far  off  to  distant  realms  he  gangs, 

Yet  I'll  prove  true  as  he  has  been ; 
And  when  ilk  lass  about  him  thrangs, 

He'll  think  on  Annie,  his  faithful  ane. 

I  met  our  wealthy  laird  yestreen, 

Wi'  goud  in  hand  he  tempted  me, 
He  prais'd  my  brow,  my  rolling  een, 

And  made  a  brag  of  what  he'd  gie. 
What  though  my  Jockey's  far  away, 

Tost  up  and  down  the  awsome  main, 
I'll  keep  my  heart  anithcr  day, 

Since  Jockey  may  return  again. 


MINSTREL. 

mair,  false  Jamie,  sing  nac  mair, 

And  fairly  cast  your  pipes  away  ; 
My  Jockey  wad  be  troubled  sair, 

To  see  his  friend  his  love  betray  ; 
For  a'  your  sangs  and  verse  are  vain. 

While  Jockey's  notes  do  faithful  flow  ; 
My  heart  to  him  shall  true  remain, 

I'll  keep  it  for  my  constant  Jo. 

Blaw  saft  ye  gales,  'round  Jockey's  head, 

And  gar  the  waves  be  calm  and  still  ; 
His  homeward  sail  wi'  breezes  speed, 

And  dinna  a'  my  pleasure  spill. 
What  though  my  Jockey's  far  away, 

Yet  he  will  braw  in  siller  shine  ; 
Til  keep  my  heart  anither  day, 

Since  Jockey  may  again  be  mine. 


THE  WHITE  COCKADE. 
A  Highland  lad  my  love  was  born, 
The  lawland  laws  was  held  in  scorn  ; 
Rut  he  still  was  tatthfid  to  his  clan, 
My  gallant  braw  John  Highlandman, 

Sing  hey,  my  braw  John  Highlandman, 
Smg  ho,  my  braw  John  Highlandman, 
There's  not  a  lad  in  a*the  land 
Was  match  for  my  John  Highlandman. 

With  his  philabeg  and  tartan  plaid, 
I  Claymore  down  by  his  side, 


3  MINSTREL. 

The  ladies'  heatt-.  he  did  trepan, 
My  gallant  braw  John  Highlandman. 
Sing  hey,  &c. 

We  rang'd  a1  from  Tweed  to  Spey, 
And  liv'cl  like  lords  and  ladies  gay  ; 
For  a  lawland  face  he  feared  none, 
My  gallant  braw  John  Highlandman  : 
Sing  hey,  &c. 

They  banish  him  beyond  the  sea, 
But  ere  the  bud  was  on  the  tree, 
Adown  my  cheeks  the  pearls  ran, 
Embracing  my  John  Highlandman. 
Sing  hey,  &c. 

But  oh  !  they  catch'd  him  at  the  last, 

And  bound  him  in  a  dungeon  fast, 

My  curse  upon  them  every  one, 

TheVe  hang'd  my  braw  John  Highlandman. 

Sing  hey,  &c. 

And  now  a  widow  I  must  mourn 
Departed  joys  that  ne'er  return  ; 
No  comfort  but  a  hearty  can, 
When  I  think  on  John  Highlandman. 

Sing  hey,  &c.  Hurm. 


THE  MAID  OF  ERIN. 

My  thought?  delight  to  wander, 

Upon  a  distant  shore ; 
Where  lovely,  fair,  and  tender. 

Is  ike  whom  I  adore. 


MINSTREL. 

Mny  Heaven  its  blessings  sparing, 

On  her  bestow  them  free  ; 
The  lovely  Maid  of  Krin  ! 
Who  sweetly  sang  to  me. 

Had  fortune  fix'd  my  station, 

In  some  propitious  hour, 
The  monarch  of  a  nation, 

Endow'd  with  wealth  and  power, 
That  wealth  and  power  sharing, 

My  peerless  queen  should  be 
The  lovely  Maid  of  Erin  ! 

Who  sweetly  sang  to  me. 

Although  the  restless  ocean. 

May  long  between  us  roar, 
Yet  w  hile  my  heart  has  motion, 

She'll  lodge  within  its  core. 
For  artless  and  endearing, 

And  mild  and  young  is  she; 
The  lovely  Maid  of  Erin  ! 

Who  sweetly  sang  to  me. 

When  fate  gives  intimation, 

That  my  last  hour  is  nigh  ; 
With  placid  resignation, 

I'll  lay  me  down  and  die. 
Fond  hope  my  bosom  cheering, 

That  I  in  Heaven  shall  jee 
The  lovely  Maid  of  Erin  ! 

Who  sweetly  sang  to  me. 


MINSTREL. 


MOYLE  WATERS. 
Silent,  oh  Movie  !  be  the  roar  of  thy  waters, 

Break  not,  ye  breezes,  your  chain  of  repose, 
WhAe,  murmuring  mournfully,  Lir's  lonely  daughter 

Tells  to  the  night  star  her  tale  of  woe. 
When  shall  the  swain,  her  death-note  singing, 

Sleep  with  wings  in  darkness  furlM  ? 
When  will  heav'n  its  sweet  bell  ringing. 

Call  my  spirit  from  this  stormy  world  ? 
Sadly,  oh  Moyle  !  to  thy  wintry  blasts  weeping, 

Fate  bids  me  languish  long  ages  away  ; 
Yet  still  in  darkness  doth  Erin  lie  sleeping. 

Still  doth  the  pure  light  its  dawning  delay  1 
Wheat  will  that  day-star  mildly  springing, 

Warm  our  isle  with  peace  and  lore  ? 
When  will  heav'n  its  sweet  bell  ringing, 

Call  my  spirit  to  the  fields  above  ? 


THE  BALLAD  SINGER. 
Here  are  catches,  songs  and  glees, 

Some  are  twenty  for  a  penny  ; 
You  shall  have  v  hate'er  you  please, 

Take  your  choice,  for  here  are  many. 

Here  is— Nan  of  Glo'ster-Grccn, 
Here's  the— Lilies  of  the  valley  ; 

Here  is— Kate  of  Aberdeen, 
Here  i*— Sally  in  our  Alley. 


MINSTREL. 

Here  is— Mary's  Dream— Poor  Jack, 
Here's— The  Tinker  and  the  Tailor, 

Here's— Bow-wow  and  Paddy  Whack- 
Tally  ho— The  hardy  Sailor. 

Here's— Dick  Dock— The  hearty  Blade, 
Captain  Wattle,  and  the  Grinder ; 

And  I've  got  the  Cottage  Maid, 
Tho'  d — me  if  I  cantindher. 

Drinking  songs,  do  here  abound, 
Toby  Philpot— Fill  the  Glasses  ; 

And — How  stands  the  Glass  around  ?— 
Here's  a  health  to  all  kind  lasses. 

Here's— Come  join  the  social  band, 
Here's — Jack  thou  art  a  noodle, 

Here's— Hail  Columbia,  happy  land- 
Stony  point,  and  Yankee  Doodle. 


THE  IRISHMAN. 
The  savage  loves  his  native  shore, 

Tho'  rude  the  soil,  and  chill  the  air ; 
Well  then  may  Erin's  sons  adore 

Their  Isle,  that  nature  formed  so  fair : 
What  flood  reflects  a  shore  so  sweet, 

As  glorious  Boyne,  or  pastoral  Bann  ? 
And  who  a  friend  or  foe  can  meet, 

So  generous  as  an  Irishman  ? 

His  hand  is  rash,  his  heart  is  warm, 
But  principle  is  still  his  guide  ; 


6  MINSTREL, 

None  more  repents  a  deed  of  harm, 
And  none  forgives  with  nobler  pride. 

He  may  be  dup'd,  but  won't  be  dar  d  : 
Fitter  to  practise  than  to  plan, 

He  ably  earns  his  poor  reward, 
And  spends  it  like  an  Irishman. 

If  poor  or  strange,  for  you  he'll  pay, 

And  guide  you  safe  where  you  may  be  ; 
If  you're  a  stranger,  while"  you  stay 

His  cottage  holds  a  jubilee  ; 
His  utmost  soul  he  will  unlock, 

And  if  he  may  your  secrets  scan, 
Your  confidence  he  scorns  to  mock, 

For  faithful  is  an  Irishman. 

By  honor  bound,  in  woe  or  weal, 

Whate'er  she  bids  he  dare  to  do ; 
Tempt  him  with  bribes,  or  if  you  fail, 

Try  him  in  fire,  you'll  find  him  true : 
He  seeks  not  safety,  let  his  post 

Be  where  it  ought,  in  danger's  van  ; 
And  if  the  field  of  fame  be  lost, 

'Twill  not  be  by  an  Irishman. 

Erin !  lov'd  land  from  age  to  age, 

3e  thou  more  bless'd,  more  fam'd  and  free! 
May  peace  be  yours,  and  should  you  wage 

Defensive  wars,  reap  victory ; 
May  plenty  bloom  in  every  field, 

And  gentle  breezes  sweetly  fan, 
And  generous  smiles  serenely  shield 

The  breast  of  every  Irishman. 


MINTSTREL  257 


THE  MALTESE  BOAT  SONG. 

See,  brothers  see,  how  the  night  comes  on, 

Slowly  sinks  the  setting  sun, 

Hark,  how  the  solemn  vesper's  sound 

Sweetly  falls  upon  the  ear ; 
Then  haste  let  us  work  till  the  day-light  is  o'er, 
And  fold  our  nets  as  we  row  to  the  shore— 
Our  toil  of  labour  being  o'er, 
How  sweet  the  boatman's  welcome  home. 
Home,  home,  home,  the  boatman's  welcome  home, 
Sweet,  oh  sweet  the  boatman's  welcome  home* 

See  how  the  tints  of  daylight  die, 

Soon  we'll  hear  the  tender  sigh ; 

For  when  the  toil  of  labour's  o'er, 

We  shall  meet  our  friends  on  shore. 
Then  haste  let  us  work  till  the  daylight  is  o'er, 
And  fold  our  nets  as  we  row  to  the  shore ; 
For  fame  or  gold  how'er  we  roam, 
No  sound  so  sweet  as  welcome  home. 
Home,  home,  home,  the  boatman's  welcome  home5 
Sweet,  oh  sweet  the  boatman's  welcome  home. 
Then  haste  let  us,  &c. 


ISABEL. 

Wako,  dearest,  wake  !  and  again  united 

"We'll  rove  by  yonder  sea  ; 
And  v  here  our  first  vows  of  love  were  plighted, 

Our  last  farewell  shall  be  ; 
oi.  I.  R 


253  M1KSTR2L 

There  oft  I've  gaz'd  on  thy  smiles  delighted, 

And  there  1*11  part  from  thee. 
There  oft  I've  gaz'd  on  thy  smiles  delighted  ; 
And  there  I'll  part  from  thee. 
Isabel  I  Isabel !  Isabel  I 

One  look,  though  that  look  is  in  sorrow  ; 
Fare  thee  well  I  fare  thee  well !  fare  thee  well 
Far  hence  I  shall  wander  to-morrow  : 
Ah  me  !  Ah  me  I 

.Dark  is  my  doom,  and  from  thee  I  sever, 

Whom  I  haye  lov'd  alone  ; 
'Twere  cruel  to  link  thy  fate  forever. 

With  sorrows  like  my  own  ; 
Go  smile  on  livelier  friends,  and  never 

Lament  me  when  I'm  gone. 
Go  smile  on  livelier  friends,  and  never 

Lament  me  when  I'm  gone, 
Isabel !  Isabel,  &c. 

And  when  at  length  in  these  lovely  bowel  >. 

Some  happier  youth  to  see ; 
And  you  cull  for  him  spring's  sweetest  flowers.. 

A  nd  he  sings  of  love  to  thee  : 
When  you  laugh  with  him  at  these  vanish'd  houn 

Oh  !  tell  him  to  love  like  me. 
When  you  laugh  with  him  at  these  vpnish'd  hour 

Oh  !  tell  him  to  love  like  me. 
Isabel !  Isabel,  &e. 


THE  CONTENTED  FELLOW, 
i  ontented  T  am.  and  contented  T'll  be  ; 
For  what  can  this  world  more  aflTc 


MINSTREL.  239 

Than  a  girl  that  will  socially  sit  on  my  knee, 
And  a  cellar  that's  plentiful  stor'd 
My  brave  boys  ? 

See,  my  vault  door  is  open,  descend  every  guest, 
Tap  the  cask,  for  the  wine  we  will  try  ; 

'1  is  as  sweet  as  the  lips  of  your  love  to  the  taste, 
And  as  bright  as  her  cheeks  to  your  eye, 
My  brave  boys. 

Sound  that  pipe, 'tis  in  tune,  and  the  binns  are  well 
filTd  ; 
View  that  heap  of  champaign  in  the  rear ! 
Those  bottles  are  Burgundy:  see  how  they're  pil'd, 
Like  artillery,  tier  upon  tier, 
My  brave  buys. 

My  cellar's  my  camp,  and  my  soldiers  my  flasks, 

All  gloriously  ranged  in  view  ; 
When  I  cast  my  eyes  round,  I  consider  my  casks 

As  kingdoms  I've  got  to  subdue, 
My  brave  boys. 

Tn  a  piece  of  slit  hoop  I  my  candle  have  stuck  ; 

'Twill  light  us  each  bottle  to  hand  ; 
The  foot  of  my  glass  for  the  purpose  I  broke, 

For  I  hate  that  a  bumper  should  stand. 
My  brave  boys. 

lis  my  will,  when  I  die,  net  a  tear  should  be  shed, 

No  hie  jacet  engrav'd  on  my  stone  ; 
ut  pour  on  my  coffin  a  bottle  of  red, 

And  say  that  his  drinking  is  don*\ 
M \  brave  boys. 


260  MINSTREL. 

SONG. 
While  I  hang  on  your  bosom,  distracted  to  lose  you, 

High  swells  my  sad  heart,  and  fast  my  tears  flow, 
Yet  think  not  of  coldness  they  fall  to  accuse  you— 

Did  I  ever  upbraid  you  ?  oh  no,  my  love  no. 

I  own  it  would  please  me,  at  home  could  you  tany, 
Nor  e'er  feel  a  wish  from  Maria  to  go  ; 

But  if  it  gives  pleasure  to  you,  my  dear  Harry, 
Shall  I  blame  your  departure  ?  oh  no,  my  love,  n 

Now  do  not,  dear  Hal,  while  abroad  you  are  strayinj 
That  heart  which  is  mine  on  a  rival  bestow  ; 

Nay,  banish  that  frown,  displeasure  betraying— 
Do  you  thick  I  suspect  you  ?  O  no,  my  love,  no. 

1  believe  you  too  kind  for  one  moment  to  grieve  me 
Or  plant  in  a  heart  which  adores  you  such  wo  ;    I 

Yet  should  you  dishonour  my  truth  and  deceive  me 
Should  I  e'er  cease  to  love  you  ?  oh  no,  my  love,i 


THOSE  EVENING  BELLS, 
Those  evening  bells,  those  evening  bells, 
How  many  a  tale  their  music  teils 
Of  youth  and  horn;-,  and  that  sweet  time, 
When  last  I  heard  their  soothing  chime. 

Those  joyous  hours  are  past  away, 
And  many  a  heart  that  then  was  gay, 
Within  the  tomb  now  darkly  dwells, 
And  hears  no  more  those  evening  bells  ! 


MINSTREL.  261 

And  so  'twill  be  when  I  am  gone, 
That  tuneful  peal  w»Il  still  ring  on, 
While  other  bards  shall  walk  these  dells, 
And  sing  your  praise,  sweet  evening  bells  ! 

T.  Moore* 


GO  WHERE  GLORY  WAITS  THEE. 
Go  where  glory  waits  thee, 
But  while  fame  elates  thee, 

Oh !  still  remember  me. 
When  the  praise  thou  meetest, 
To  thine  ear  is  sweetest, 

Oh  I  then  remember  me. 
Other  arms  may  press  thee, 
Dearer  friends  caress  thee, 
All  the  joys  that  bless  thee, 

Sweeter  far  may  be  : 
But  when  friends  are  nearest, 
And  when  joys  are  dearest, 

Oh  .'  then  remember  me. 

When,  at  eve,  thou  rovest, 
By  the  star  thou  lovest, 

Oh  !  then  remember  me. 
Think,  when  home  returning  ; 
Bright  we've  seen  it  burning, 

Oh  !  thus  remember  me. 
Oft  as  summer  closes, 
When  thine  eye  reposes 
On  its  lingering  roses, 


362  MINSTREL, 

Once  so  lov'd  by  thee, 
Think  of  her  who  wove  them, 
Her  who  made  thee  love  them  ; 

Oh  I  then  remember  me. 

When  around  thee  dying 
Autumn  leaves  are  lying, 

Oh !  then  remember  me. 
And,  at  night,  when  gazing 
On  the  gay  hearth  blazing, 

Oh  !  still  remember  me. 
Then  should  music  stealing 
All  the  soul  of  feeling, 
To  thy  heart  appealing, 

Draw  one  tear  from  thee  : 
Then  let  memory  bring  thee 
Strains  I  us'd  to  sing  thee — 

Oh  !  then  remember  me. 


THE  WOODMAN. 

To  a  woodman's  hut  there  came  one  day 

A  physician  and  dancing  master ; 
This  fellow's  hovel  must  serve  said  they, 

For  the  rain  pours  faster  and  faster. 

The  physician  was  proud,  and  toss'd  up  his  head, 
And  scarce  would  the  woodman  mark,  sir  ; 

M  But  doctor,  we're  equals,"  the  woodman  taidj 
"  For  we  both  of  us  deal  in  bark,  sir." 


MINSTREL.  261, 

The  master  of  dance  was  a9  grand  a«  you  please, 
'Till  the  woodman  cried, tw  how  now,  sir  ! 

You  cut  but  capers,  I  cut  trees, 
And  we  all  know  the  worth  of  a  bow,  sir." 

At  last,  says  the  woodman,  l<  the  weather  is  good, 
For  the  rain  only  falls  from  the  eaves,  now  ; 

So  put  out  your  heads,  'twill  be  carrying  wood  : 
And  pray,  both  be  taking  your  leaves  now." 

Coleman  Jr. 


THE  FAIREST  ROSE  IS  FAR  AWA.' 
The  morn  is  blinking  o'er  the  hills 

With  soften'd  light,  and  colours  gay  ; 
Through  grove  and  valley  sweetly  thrill* 

The  melody  of  early  day  ; 
The  dewy  roses  blooming  fair, 

Glitter  around  her  father's  ha', 
But  still  my  Mary  is  not  there— 

The  Surest  rose  is  far  awa'. 

The  cooling  zephyrs  gently  blow 

Along  the  dew-bespangled  mead— 
In  ev'ry  field  the  oxen  low— 

The  careless  shepherd  tunes  his  reed— 
And  while  the  roses  blooming  fair, 

My  lute  with  softly  dying  fa' 
Laments  that  Mary  is  not  there— 

The  fairest  rose  is  far  awa\ 


I  MINSTREL. 

The  thrush  is  singing  on  the  hills 

And  charms  the  groves  that  wave  around, 
And  through  the  vale  the  winding  rills 

Awake  a  softly  murmuring  sound ; 
The  robin  tunes  his  mellow  throat 

Where  glittering  roses  sweetly  blaw, 
But  grieves  that  Mary  hears  him  not— 

The  fairest  rose  is  far  awa\ 

Why  breathe  thy  melody  in  vain, 
.  Thou  lovely  songster  of  the  morn- 
Why  pour  thy  ever-varying  strain 

Amid  the  sprays  of  yonder  thorn- 
Do  not  the  roses  blooming  fair 

At  morning's  dawn  or  evening's  fa' 
Tell  thee  of  one  that  is  not  there— 

The  fairest  rose  that's  far  awa\ 


THE  MAID  OF  LODI. 

I  sing  the  maid  of  Lodi, 

Who  sweetly  sung  to  me, 
Whose  brows  were  never  cloudy, 

Nor  e'er  distort  with  glee. 
She  values  not  the  wealthy, 

Unless  they're  great  and  good, 
For  she  is  strong  and  healthy, 

And  by  labour  earns  her  food. 

And  when  her  day's  work's  over, 
Around  a  cheerful  fire, 


MINSTREL. 

She  sings,  or  rests  contented  ; 

What  more  can  man  desire  ? 
Let  those  who  squander  millions 

Review  her  happy  lot, 
They'll  find  their  proud  pavilions 

Far  inferior  to  her  cot* 

Between  the  Po  and  Parma 

Some  villains  siez'd  my  coach, 
And  dragg'd  me  to  a  cavern, 

Most  dreadful  to  approach  ; 
By  which  the  maid  of  Lodi 

Came  trotting  from  the  fair  ; 
She  paus'd  to  hear  my  wailings, 

And  see  me  tear  my  hair. 

Then  to  her  market  basket 

She  tied  her  poney's  rein  ; 
I  thus  by  female  courage 

Was  dragg'd  to  life  again. 
She  led  me  to  her  dwelling, 

She  cheer*dmy  heart  with  wine 
And  then  she  deck'd  a  table, 

At  which  the  gods  might  dine. 

Among  the  mild  Madonas 

Her  features  you  may  find  ; 
But  not  the  fam'd  Correggios 

Could  ever  paint  her  mind. 
Then  sing  the  maid  of  Lodi, 

Who  sweetly  sung  to  me  ; 
And  when  this  maid  is  married, 

Still  happier  may  she  be. 


j  MINSTREL. 

I'LL  BE  MARRIED  TO  THEE. 
I  am  teaz'd  to  death  from  morn  till  night, 

And  its  all  along  with  who,^ 
Why  its  all  for  thee,  my  heart  %  delight, 

Dear  Sandy,  I  tell  thee  true. 
My  father  stamps,  and  my  mother  scolds. 

Aye,  and  leads  me  such  a  life, 
And  its  all  for  being  too  young  I  ra  told, 
To  be  my  Sandy's  wife. 
Than  gang  o'er  the  hills  with  me,  my  lore, 

Gang  o'er  the  hills  with  me, 
Gang  o'er  the  hills  with  me,  my  love, 
And  I'll  be  married  to  thee. 
There  is  ne'er  a  laird  in  all  Dumfries, 

Though  many  a  laird  there  be, 
Can  ever  say  such  things  to  please 

As  my  deai*  Shepherd  to  me. 
And  though  but  little  the  youth  can  boast, 

Of  acres,  houses  or  gear, 
Of  all  the  Shepherds  I  love  him  most, 
And  he  is  my  only  dear. 

Then  gang  o'er  the  hills,  &c. 
Twelve  months  are  gone  and  something  more, 

Since  we  fix'd  on  to  wed, 
And  should  we  tarry  till  e'en  threescore, 

Why  something  will  e'en  be  said  ; 
Then  let  us  now,  while  yet  'tis  spring, 

And  sympathy  warms  each  breast, 
Twine  hands  together  in  Hymen's  string, 
And  love  will  make  up  the  rest. 

Then  gang  o'er  the  hills,  &e; 


MINSTREL.  >6 

GREEN  GROW  THE  RASHES. 
Green  grow  the  rashes,  O  ; 

Green  grow  the  rashes,  O  ; 
The  sweetest  hours  that  e'er  I  spend, 
Are  spent  amang  the  lasses,  O  ! 
There's  naught  but  care  on  ev'ry  han', 

In  ev'ry  hour  that  passes,  O  ; 
What  signifies  the  life  o'  man, 
An'  'twere  na'  for  the  lasses,  O  ? 
Green  grow,  &c. 
The  warldly  race  may  riches  chase, 
And  riches  still  may  fly  them,  O  ; 
And  though  at  last  they  catch  them  fast, 
Their  hearts  can  ne'er  enjoy  them,  O. 
Green  grow,  &c. 

Gie  me  a  cannie  hour  at  e'en, 

My  arms  around  my  dearie,  O  ; 
An'  warldly  cares  an'  warldly  men, 

May  a'  gae  tapsalteerie,  O. 

Green  grow,  &c. 

For  you  sae  douse,  ye  sneer  at  this, 

Ye're  nought  but  senseless  asses,  O  ; 
The  wisest  man  the  warl'  e'er  saw, 

He  dearly  lo'ed  the  lasses'  O. 

Green  grow,  &c. 
Auld  nature  swears  the  lovely  dears 

Her  noblest  work  she  classes,  O; 
Her  'prentice  han*  she  try'd  on  man, 

And  then  she  made  the  lasses,  O. 

Green  grow,  &c,  Burns 


268  MINSTREL. 

GIVE  ISAAC  THE  NYMPH. 
Give  Isaac  the  nymph  who  no  beauty  can  boast, 
But  health  and  good  humour  to  make  her  his  toast ; 
If  straight,  I  don't  mind  whether  slender  or  fat, 
And  six  feet  or  four,  we'll  ne'er  quarrel  for  that. 

Whate'er  her  complexion,  I  vow  I  don't  care ; 
If  brown,  it  is  lasting,  more  pleasing  if  fair  : 
And  though  in  her  face  I  no  dimples  could  see, 
Let  her  smile,  and  each  dell  is  a  dimple  to  me. 

Let  her  locks  be  the  reddest  that  ever  were  seen, 
And  her  eyes  may  be  e'en  any  colour  but  green ; 
Be  they  light,  gray,  or  black,  their  luster  and  hue, 
I  swear  I've  no  choice,  only  let  her  have  two. 

'Tis  true,  I'd  dispense  with  a  throne  on  her  back, 
And  white  teeth,  I  own,  are  genteeler  than  black  ; 
A  little  round  chin  is  a  beauty,  I've  heard, 
But  I  only  desire  she  mayn't  have  a  beard. 

Sheridan, 

1 

CAN  OP  GROG. 

While  up  the  shrouds  the  sailor  goes, 

Or  ventures  on  the  yard  ; 
The  landsman  who  no  better  knows, 
Believes  his  lot  is  hard. 
But  Jack  with  smiles  each  danger  meets, 

Casts  anchor,  heaves  the  log, 
Trims  all  the  sails  belays  the  sheets, 
And  drinks  his  can  of  grog. 


MINSTREL.  2fiO 

When  mountains  high  the  waves  that  swell 

The  vessel  rudely  bear, 
Now  sinking  in  a  hollow  dell, 

Now  quiv'ring  in  the  air  ; 

Bold  Jack,  &c. 

When  waves  'gainst  rocks  and  quicksands  roar, 

You  ne'er  hear  him  repine ; 
Freezing  near  Greenland's  icy  shore, 

Or  burning  near  the  line  ; 

Bold  Jack,  &c. 

If  to  engage  they  give  the  word, 

To  quarters  all  repair  ; 
While  splinter'd  masts  go  by  the  board, 

And  shot  sing  through  the  air: 

Bold  Jack,  Sec. 


THE  HOBBIES. 
Attention  pray  c^ive  while  of  hobbies  I  sing, 
For  each  has  his  hobby,  from  cobler  to  king ; 
On  some  favorite  hobby  we  all  get  astride, 
And  when  we're  once  mounted,  full  gallop  we  ride. 

All  on  hobbies,  nil  on  hobbies, 

All  on  hobbies,  gee  up,  and  gee  O. 

Some  hobbies  are  restive,  and  hard  for  to  govern  ; 
E'en  just  like  our  wives,  they'er  so  cursedly  stubborn. 
The  hobbies  of  scolds  are  their  husbands  to  t^ase, 
And  the  hobbies  of  ).,  nty  of  fees. 

All  on  hobbies,  Sec. 


270  MINSTREL. 

The  beaux,  those  sweet  gentlemen's  hobby,  good  lack ! 
Is  to  wear  great  large  poultices  tied  round  the  neck  ; 
And  they  think  in  the  ton  and  the  tippe  they're  drest, 
If  they've  breeches  that  reach  from  the  ankle  to  chest. 
All  on  hobbies,  &c. 

The  hobbies  of  sailors,  when  safe  moor'd  in  port, 
With  their  wives  and  their  sweethearts  to  toy  and  to 

sport; 
When  our  navy's  completed,  their  hobby  shall  be, 
To  shew  the  whole  world  that  America's  free. 

All  on  hobbies,  8c c. 

The  hobbies  of  soldiers  in  time  of  great  wars, 

Are  breaches  and  battles,  with  blood,  wounds  and  scars; 

But  in  peace  you'll  observe  that  quite  different  their 

trade  is : 
The  hobbies  of  soldiers,  in  peace,  are  the  ladies. 

All  on  hobbies,  &c. 

The  ladies,  sweet  creatures  !  yes  they  now  and  thru, 
Get  astnd  of  their  hobbies,  e'en  just  like  the  men  : 
With  smiles  and  with  simpers  beguile  us  with  ease ; 
And  we  gallop,  trot,  amble,  e'en  just  as  they  please. 
All  on  hobbies,  &c. 

The  American's  hobbies  has  long  since  been  known : 
No  tyrant  or  king  shall  from  them  have  a  throne : 
Their  states  are  united— and  let  it  be  said, 
Their  hobby  is  Washington^  peace  and  free  trade. 
All  on  hobbies,  &c= 


MINSTREL. 

SWEET  LILIES  OF  THE  VALLEY. 
O'er  barren  hills  and  flow'ry  dales, 

O'er  seas  and  distant  shores, 
"With  merry  songs  and  jocund  tales, 

I've  past  some  pleasing  hours  ; 
Though  wand'ring  thus,  I  ne'er  could  find 

A  girl  like  blithsome  Sally, 
v.'ho  picks  and  culls,  and  cries  aloud, 

Sweet  lilies  of  the  valley. 
P'rom  whistling  o'er  theharrow'd  tnrf, 

From  nestling  of  each  tree, 
I  chose  a  soldier's  life  to  lead, 

So  social,  gay,  and  free  : 
Yet,  though  the  lasses  love  as  well, 

And  often  try  to  rally, 
None  pleases  me  like  her,  who  cries. 

Sweet  lilies  of  the  valley. 
I'm  now  retum'd  of  late  discharg'd, 

To  use  my  native  toil ; 
From  fighting  in  my  country's  cause, 

To  plough  my  country's  soil : 
I  care  not  which,  with  either  pleasM, 

So  I  possess  my  Sally, 
That  little  merry  nymph  who  cries, 
Sweet  lilies  of  the  vallev. 


GALL  A  WATER. 
Hm  n  »i  braw,  braw  lads,  on  Yarrow  braes 
That  «  ander  thro'  the  blooming  heather  | 


2  MINSTREL. 

But  Yarrow  braes,  nor  Ettric  shaws. 
Can  match  the  lad  o'  Galla  water. 

But  there  is  ane,  a  secret  ane, 
Aboon  them  a'  I  loe  him  better ; 

And  I'll  be  his,  and  he'll  be  mine, 
The  bonie  lad  o'  Galla  water. 

Altho'  his  daddie  was  nae  laird, 
And  tho"  I  hae  na  meikle  tocher  ; 

Yet  rich  in  kindness,  truest  love, 
We'll  tent  our  flocks,  by  Galla  water. 

It  ne'er  was  wealth,  it  ne'er  was  wealth, 
That  soft  contentment,  peace,  or  pleasure ; 

The  bands  and  bliss  o'  mutual  love, 
O  that's  the  chiefest  warld's  treasure. 


TASTE,  OH  !  TASTE  THIS  SPICY  WINE. 
Taste,  oh  !  taste  this  spicy  wine, 

Drain  the  sparkling  cup,  I  pray  ', 
Does  your  heart  in  sadness  pine  ? 
Drink,  and  sadness  clears  away. 

Now  may  nimble  troops  of  pleasure 

Seal  your  hours  in  morrice  light ; 
Deck  the  day  with  fancy's  treasure, 

Bless  -your  dreams,  and  crown  the  night. 


MINSTREL.  t73 

THE  STEERSMAN'S  SONG. 

When  freshly  blows  the  nothern  gale 

And  under  courses  snug1  \\  e  fty ; 
'When  brighter  breezes  swell  th?  sail, 

And  royals  promt  I  y  sweep  the  sky  ; 
Longside  the  wheel,  unwearied  still 

I  stand,  and  as  my  watchful  eye 
Doth  mark  the  needle's  faithful  thrill, 

I  think  of  her  I  love,  and  cry, 
Port,  my  boy  !  port. 

When  calms  delay,  or  breezes  blow 

Right  from  the  paint  w  e  wish  to  steer  ; 
When  by  the  wind  close-haul'd  we  go, 

And  strive  in  vain  the  port  to  near  ! 
I  think  *t;s  thus  the  fates  defer 

My  bliss  with  one  that's  faraway, 
And  while  remembrance  springs  to  her, 

I  watch  the  sails,  and  sighing-,  say, 
Thus,  my  boy  '.  thus. 

But  see  the  wind  draw  kindly  aft, 

All  hands  are  up,  the  yards  to  square  ; 
And  now  the  floating  stu*n-sai!s  waft 

Our  stately  ship  through  waves  and  air. 
Oh  !  then  I  think  that  ytt  for  me 

Some  breeze  uf  fortune  thus  may  spring ; 
Some  breeze  to  waft  me,  love  to  thee ! 

And  in  that  hope  I  smiling  sing, 
Steady,  boy !  so. 
Vol.  I.  S 


274  MINSTREL. 

THADY  MULLIGAN. 

There  was  a  lady  liv'd  at  Leith, 

A  lady  very  stylish,  man  ; 
And  ytt,  in  spite  of  all  her  teeth, 
She  fell  in  love  with  an  Irishman, 
A  nasty,  ugly  Irishman, 
A  wild  tremendous  Irishman, 
A  tearing,  swearing,  thumping,  Lumping,  ramping 
roaring  Irishman. 

His  face  was  no  ways  beautiful, 

For  with  small-pox  'twas  searr'd  across, 
And  the  shoulders  of  the  ugly  dog 
Were  almost  quite  a  yard  across, 
O  the  lump  of  an  Irishman  ; 
The  whiskey  drinking  Irishman, 
The  great  he  rogue,  with  his  wonderful  brogue,  tl 
fighting,  rioting  Irishman. 

One  of  his  eyes  was  bottle-green, 

And  the  other  it  was  out  my  dear, 
And  the  calves  of  his  wicked  looking  legs 
Were  pjore  than  two  feet  about  rrv  dear. 
O  the  icivat  big  Irishman, 
The  rattling,  battling  Irishman 
-  The  stamping, ;  ;i;.iping,swaggering,  staggering,  leal 
eiing  Bw#$h  uf  an  Irishman. 


He  took  so  much  of  Lundy  Foot, 
That  he  used  to  snort  and  snuffle— O  ; 

And  in  shape  and  size  the  fellow's  neck 
Was  as  big  as  the  neck  of  a  buffalo. 


MINSTREL.  275 

O  the  horrible  Irishman, 
The  thundering,  blundering  Irishman, 
!%e  slashing,  dashing,  smashing,  lashing,  thrashing; 
hashing  Irishman. 

His  name  was  a  terrible  name  indeed, 
Being  Timothy  Thady  Mulligan  ; 
And  whenever  he  emptied  his  tumbler  of  punch, 
He'd  not  rest  till  he  fill'd  it  full  again. 
The  boozing,  bruising  Irishman, 
The  toxieated  Irishman, 
he  whiskey,  friskey,  rummy,  gummy,  brandy,  no 
dandy  Irishman. 

This  was  the  lad  the  Lady  lov'd, 

Like  all  the  girls  of  quality, 
And  he  broke  the  skulls  of  the  men  at  Leith, 
Just  by  the  way  of  jollity. 
O  the  lathering  Irishman, 
The  barbarous,  savage  Irishman, 
he  hearts  of  the  maids,  and  the  gentlemen's  heads, 
were  bother'd  I'm  sure  by  this  Irishman. 


VDDY  CARY'S  FORTUNE,  OR  IRISH    PRO- 
MOTION, 
was  at  the  town  of  nate  Clogheen 
That  Serjeant  Snap  met  Paddy  Cary, 
claner  boy  w  as  never  seen, 
Brisk  as  a  bee,  light  as  a  fairy  ; 


275  MINSTREL. 

His  brawny  shoulders  four  feet  square, 

His  cheeks  like  thumping  red  potatoes, 
His  legs  would  make  a  chairman  stare, 
And  Pat  was  lov'J  by  all  the  ladies  ! 
Old  and  young— wave  and  sad— deaf  and  dumb— du 
or  mad, 
Waddling,  twaddling, limping)  squinting, 

Light,  brisk,  and  airy, 
All  the  sweet  faces,  at  LimVick  races, 
From  Mullinavat  to  Maghevaft  It, 
At  Paddy's  beautiful  name  would  melt.' 
The  sowls  would  cry,  and  Icok  so  shy, 
Ogh  !  cushlamacree  did  you  nev.rsce 
The  jolly  boy.  the  darling  boy  ! 
The  darling  joy,  the  hulks'  toy  I 
Nimble-foot:  d.  black-eyed,  rosy- cheeked,  curly-hea    ' 
ed  Paddy  Carv. 

O  sweet  Paddy  ! 
Beautiful  Paddy ! 
Nate  little,  tight  little",  Paddy  Cary.      1^ 

His  heart  was  made  of  Irish  oak. 

Yet  soft  as  streams  from  sweet  Killamey, 
His  tongue  wastipt  with  a  bit  of  the  brogue, 

But  the  deuce  a  bit  at  all  of  the  blarney. 
Now  serjeant  Snap,  so  sly  and  keen, 

While  Pat  was  coaxing  duck-legged  Mary, 
A  shilling  slipt  so  neat  and  clean, 

By  the  Powers  he  listed  Paddy  Cary  ! 
Tight  and  sound— strong  and  light— cheeks  so  rout) 
eyes  so  bright, 

"Whistling,  humming,  drinking,  drumming, 
Light,  tight  and  airy, 
All  the  sweet  fie^. 


MINSTREL.  17' 

"he  sow  Is  wept  loud,  the  crowd  w  as  great, 
When  Saddling  forth  came  Widow  Leary, 
"hough  the  was  crippled  in  her  gait, 
Hu-  brawny  arms  clasp'd  Paddy  Cary. 
Ogh,  Pat,*'  she  cried,  »  go  buy  the  ring, 
Her.'s  cash  galore,  my  darling  honey  ; 
lyi  Pat,  *  V<  in- soul  :*l"ll  do  that  thing,** 
And  clapp'd  his  thumb  upon  her  money  I 
imltt-.\t—  sau>ag.-nose—  Pat  so  sly— ogle  throws, 
Leering,  titt'ring,  jeering,  fiitt'iing  ; 
Sweet  widow  Leary  ! 

All  the  sweet  facts,  &c. 

hen  Pat  had  thus  his  fortune  made, 

He  pressed  the  lips  of  mistress  Leary  ; 

.d  mounting  strait  a  large  cockade, 

In  captain's  boots  struts  Faddy  Cary  [ 

1  grafc  ful  prais'd  1  ei shape,  her  back, 

To  others  like  a  dromedary  ; 

reyes  that  seem'd  tlnir  strings  to  crack, 

.Vere  Cupid's  darts  to  captain  Cary  .' 

at  and  sweet— no  alloy— all  complete— love  and  for 

Panting,  roaring,  soft  adoring, 

Dear  widow  Leary ; 

All  the  swea  faces  at  Limerick  rrccs, 
JwmMullittavattoMajgherafelt,       ' 

-h,.  c,        ■  n  l11oniolio»  sigh  and  melt  ; 
(El  rWJ8  f,  cr>"'  as  the  B"»ni  struts  by, 
Ogh  !  cush'amacree,  thou  art  lost  to  me !» 

JkT1 y,bo>' lhe  darli"&  boy  ! 

The  lady's  toy,  the  widow's  joy  ! 


578  MINSTREL. 

Long  sword  girted,  neat  short  skirted,  head  cropt, 
Whisker  chopp'd,  Captain  Cary  ! 

O  sweet  Paddy ! 

Beautiful  Paddy ! 
White  feathered,  boot  leathered,  Paddy  Caryl 


KATE  KEARNEY. 
Oh  have  you  not  heard  of  Kate  Kearney, 
She  lives  on  the  banks  of  Killarney, 

From  the  glance  of  her  eye, 

Shun  danger  and  fly, 
For  fatal's  the  glance  of  Kate  Kearney. 

Her  eye  is  so  modestly  beaming, 

You'll  ne'er  think  of  mischief  she's  dreaming  : 

Yet  O  !  I  can  tell, 

How  fatal's  the  spell, 
That  lurks  in  the  eye  of  Kate  Kearney. 

Then  should  you  e'er  meet  this  Kate  Kearney, 

Who  lives  on  the  banks  of  Killarney  ; 

Beware  of  her  smile, 

For  many  a  wile 
Lies  hid  in  the  eye  of  Kate  Kearney. 

Her  eyes  so  bewitchingly  simple, 
Oh  there's  mischief  in  every  dimple  ; 

By  her  sigh's  spicy  gale, 

Who  e'er  dares  inhale, 
Must  die  by  the  breath  of  Kate  Kearney. 

Mm  Owen* 


MINSTREL.  273 

MY  TRIM  BUILT  WHERRY. 
Then  farewell,  my  trim  built  wherry, 

Oars,  and  coat,  and  badge  farewell ; 
Nevermore  at  Chelsea  ferry 

Shall  your  Thomas  take  a  spell. 

But  to  hope  and  peace  a  stranger, 

In  the  battle's  heat  I  go  ; 
Where  exposed  to  every  danger, 

Some  friendly  ball  shall  lay  me  low. 

Then,  mayhap,  when  homeward  steering, 
With  the  news  my  messmates  come  : 

Even  you,  my  story  hearing, 
With  a  sigh  may  cry  poor  Tom  ! 

C.  Dibdin. 


SHE  LIVES  IN  THE  VALLEY  BELOW. 
The  broom  bloom'd  so  fresh  and  so  fair, 

The  lambkins  were  sporting  around, 
When  I  wander'd  to  breathe  the  soft  air, 

And  by  chance  a  rich  treasure  I  found. 
A  lass  sat  beneath  a  green  slnde, 

For  her  smiles  the  whole  world  I'd  forego. 
As  blooming  as  May  was  the  maid, 

And  she  lives  in  the  valley  below. 

Her  song  struck  my  ear  with  surprise. 
Her  voice  like  the  nightingale  sweet, 

But  love  took  his  seat  in  her  eyes, 
Where  beauty  and  innocent  meet. 


180  MINSTREL. 

From  that  moment  my  heart  w  as  her  own, 

For  every  w  ish  I'd  forego, 
She's  beauteous  as  roses  just  blown. 

And  she  lives  in  the  valley  below. 

My  cottage  with  woodbine  o'er  grown, 

The  sweet  turtle-dove  cooing  round, 
My  flocks  and  my  herds  are  my  own, 

My  pastures  with  hawthorn  are  bound. 
All  my  riches  I'd  lay  at  her  fjt  t, 

If  her  heart  in  return  she'll  bestow  ; 
For  no  pastime  can  cheer  my  retreat, 

While  she  lives  in  the  valley  below. 


MAGGIE  LAUDER. 
Wha  wadna  be  in  love 

Wi"  bonny  Maggie  Lauder  ? 
A  piper  met  her  gaun  to  Fife, 

And  sp.  ir'd  what  was't  they  ca'd  her  ? 
Right  scornfully  she  answerd  him, 

Begone  ye  halla:. shaker, 
Jog  on  your  gate,  ye  Bladderskate, 

My  name  is  Maggie  Lauder. 
Maggie,  quoth  he,  and  by  my  br.gs, 

I'm  fidging  fain  to  see  thee  ; 
Sit  down  by  me,  my  bonny  bird, 

In  troth  I  winna  £t jer  thee  ; 
For  I'm  a  piper  to  my  trade, 

My  name  is  Rob  the  Ranter  ; 
The  lasses  loup  as  they  were  deft 

When  I  blow  up  my  chanter. 


MINSTREL.  *« 

Piper,  quoth  Meg,  hae  ye  your  bags. 

Or  is  your  droue  in  order  ? 
If  ye  be  Rob,  I've  heard  of  you. 

Live  ye  upo1  the  border  ? 
The  lasses  a',  baith  far  and  near. 

Have  heard  of  Rob  the  Ranter; 
I'll  shake  my  fuct  \\i*  right  good  will 

Gif  ye'll  blaw  up  your  chancer. 

Then  to  his  bags  he  flew  wi'  speed, 

About  the  drone  he  twisted  ; 
M<  g  up,  and  wallop'd  o'er  the  green, 

For  b  rawly  could  she  frisk  it : 
W«  1  done,  quoth  he,  play  up,  quoth  she, 

Wetl  bobb'd,  quoth  Rob  the  Ranter, 
'Tis  worth  my  while  to  play  indeed, 

When  I  get  sic  a  dancer. 

Weel  ha'e  you  play'd  your  part,  quoth  Meg, 

Your  cheeks  are  like  the  crimson  : 
There's  nane  in  Scotland  plays  sae  weel, 

Since  we  lost  Happy  Simson. 
I've  liv'd  in  Fife,  baith  maid  and  wife, 

These  ten  years  and  a  quarter  ; 
Gin  ye  should  come  to  Ensterfair, 

Spier  ye  for  Maggie  Lauder.  Burnt* 


THE  GIRL  OF  MY  HEART. 
I  have  parks,  I  have  grounds; 
I  have  deer,  I  have  hounds, 


I  MINSTREL. 

And  for  sporting  a  neat  little  cottage  ! 
I  have  youth,  I  have  wealth, 
I  have  strength,  I  have  health, 

Yet  I  mope  like  a  beau  in  his  dotage. 
What  can  I  want  ?— 'Tis  the  girl  of  my  heart, 

To  share  those  treasures  with  me. 
For  had  I  the  wealth  which  the  Indies  impart, 

No  pleasure  would  it  give  me, 
Without  the  lovely  girl  of  my  heart, 
The  sweet,  lovelv  girl  of  my  heart. 

For  had  I  the  wealth,  &c. 

My  domain  far  extends, 
And  sustain  social  friends, 

Who  makes  music  divinely  enchanting  ; 
We  have  balls,  we  have  plays, 
We  have  routs,  public  days, 

And  yet  still  I  find  something  is  wanting  ; 
What  should  it  be,  but  the  girl  of  my  heart, 

To  share  those  treasures  with  me  ; 
And  had  I  the  wealth  which  the  Indies  impart, 

No  pleasure  would  it  give  me» 
Without  the  lovely  girl  of  my  heart, 
The  sweet  lovely  girl  of  my  heart, 
Then  give  me  the  girl  of  my  heart, 
For  w hat  is  the  wealth  that  the  Indies  impart, 
Compar'd  to  the  girl  of  my  heart ; 
Then  give  me  the  girl  of  my  heart. 


THE  DUSTY  MILLER. 
Hey,  the  dusty  miller 
And  his  dusty  coat, 


MINSTREL. 

He  will  win  a  shilling: 
Or  he'll  spend  a  groat. 

Dusty  was  the  coat. 
Dusty  was  to  colour, 

Dusty  was  the  kiss 
That  I  got  frae  the  miller. 

Hey,  the  dusty  miller, 

And  his  dusty  sack. 
Leeze  me  on  the  calling 

Fills  the  dusty  peck : 

Fills  the  dusty  peck, 
Brings  the  dusty  siller  ; 

I  wad  gie  my  coattie 
For  the  dusty  miller. 


THE  CALEDONIAN  MAID. 
Say,  have  you  seen  my'Arrabell  ? 

The  Caledonian  maid, 
Or  heard  the  youths  of  Scotland  tell. 

Where  Arrabell  has  stray 'd  ? 
The  damsel  is  of  angel  mein, 

With  sad  and  downcast  eyes  ; 
The  shepherds  call  her  sorrow's  qu?en, 

So  pensively  she  sighs. 

But  why  her  sighs  so  sadly  swell, 

Or  why  her  tears  so  flow  : 
In  vain  they  press'd  the  lovely  girl. 

The  innate  cause  to  know. 


I  MINSTREL. 

E'er  reason  form'd  her  tender  mind, 
The  virgin  learn'd  to  love, 

Compassion  taught  her  to  be  kind, 
Deceit  she  was  above. 

And  had  not  war's  terrific  voice 

Forbid  the  nuptial  bands, 
Ere  now,  had  Sandy  been  her  choice, 

And  Hymen  join' d  our  hands : 
But  since  the  sword  cf  war  is  sheath'd, 

And  peace  resumes  her  charms, 
My  every  joy  is  now  bequeathed 

To  Arrabella's  arms. 


MY  NAME'S  HONEST  HARRY,  O* 
My  name  is  Honest  Harry,  O, 
Mary  I  will  marry  O  ; 

In  spite  of  Nell,  or  Isabel, 
I'll  fellow  my  own  vagary  O. 
With  my  rigdum  jigdum  airy  Ov 
I  love  little  .Mary  O, 

In  spite  of  Ntll,  or  Isabel, 
I'll  fallow  my  own  vagary  O. 

Smart  she  is  and  bonny  O. 
Sweet  as  sugarcandy  O, 

Fresh  and  gay, 

As  flow 'is  in  May, 
And  I'm  her  Jack  a  dandy  O. 
With  my,  &c. 


MINSTREL. 

Soon  to  church  I'll  have  her  O, 
Where  w  '11  wed  together  O  ; 
And  that  then  done, 
We'll  have  some  fun, 
Iu  spite  of  « ind  and  weather  O, 
With  my,  &c 


JOE  THE  SAILOR. 
Columbia's  sons  at  sea, 

In  battle  al\\  ays  br  ve, 
Strike  to  no  pow  *r  d'ye  see, 
That  ever  plough'd  the  wave. 
Fal,lal,  la! 

But  \\  h  n  we're  not  afloat, 
Tis  quite  another  thing  ; 

"We  strike  to  petticoat, 

Get  groggy,  dance  and  sing. 
Fal,  lal. 

There's  Portsmouth  Polly,  she, 

When  fore'd  to  go  ashore, 
Vow'd  constancy  to  me, 

And  sometimes  twenty  more, 
lal, lal.  " 

Hut  give  poor  Poll  her  due , 

For  truth's  a  precious  thing, 
Wjth  none  but  sailors  true 
Would  the  drink  grog  and  sing. 
Fal,  lak 


MINSTREL. 

With  Nancy  deep  in  love, 

I  once  to  sea  did  go  ; 
Ketunrd,  she  cry'd,  ••  By  Jove! 

"  I'm  married,  dearest  Joe.  " 
Fal,  lal. 

Great  guns  I  scarce  could  hold, 
To  find  that  I  was  flung ; 

But  Nancy  prov'd  a  scold, 

Then  I  got  drunk,  and  sung 
si'  Fal,  lal. 

At  length  I  did  comply, 
And  made  a  rib  of  Sue  ; 

What  tho'  she'd  but  one  eye  ? 
It  pierced  my  heart  like  two. 
Fal.  lal. 

And  now  I  take  my  glass, 
Drink  America  no  king  ; 

Content  with  my  old  lass, 
Get  groggy, dance,  and  sing. 
Fal,  lal. 


BIRKS  OF  INVERMAY. 

The  smiling  mom,  the  breathing  spring, 
Invite  the  tuneful  birds  to  sing  ; 
And  while  they  warble  from  each  spray, 
Love  melts  the  universal  lay  ; 


MINSTREL. 

Let  us,  Amanda,  timely  wise, 
Like  them  improve  the  hour  th;>t  flin, 
Ami  in  soft  raptures  w  ast  the  day 
Among  the  birks  of  Invermay. 

For  soon  the  winter  of  the  year 
And  age,  life's  winter,  will  appear  ; 
At  this  thy  lively  bloom  will  fade, 
As  that  w  ill  strip  the  verdant  shade  ; 
Our  taste  of  pleasure  then  is  o'er, 
The  feather'd  songsters  please  no  more ; 
And  when  they  droop  and  we  decay, 
Adieu  the  birks  of  Invermay. 

The  lav'roeks  now  and  lintwhites  sing, 
The  rocks  around  wi'  echoes  ring, 
The  mavies  and  the  blackbird  vie 
In  tunefu'  strains  to  glad  the  day  ; 
The  woods  now  wear  their  summer  suits, 
To  mirth  a'  nature  now  invites  ; 
Let  us  be  blithsome  then,  and  gay, 
Among  the  birks  of  Inveunay. 

Behold  the  hills  and  vales  around 
With  lowing  herds  and  flocks  abound  ; 
The  wanton  kids  and  frisking  lambs 
Gambol  and  dance  about  their  dams  ; 
The  busy  bees  with  humming  noise, 
And  a'  the  reptile  kind  rt  joice ;     • 
I.t  t  us,  like  them,  then  siiv^  and  play 
About  the  birks  of  Invermay. 


I  MINSTREL. 

Hark  how  the  waters,  as  they  fa', 
Loudly  my  love  to  gladness  cu'  ; 
The  wanton  waves  sport  in  the  beams, 

And  fishes  play  thoughout  the  streams ; 
The  ciix-iing  sun  dots  now  advance, 
And  all  the  planets  rcu.  d  him  dance  ; 
Let  us  as  jovial  be  as  they 
Amang  the  birks  of  Inveraray. 


THE  ~>YOOD  ROBIN*. 

Stay,  sweet  enchanter  of  the  g.-ove. 
Leave  not  so  soon  thy  native  tree  ; 

O,  warble  still  those  notes  cf  love, 

While  my  fond  heart  resounds  to  thee. 

O.  warble  still  those  notes  cf  love, 

"While  my  fond  heart  responds  to  thee. 

Rest  thy  soft  bosom  on  the  S] 

Till  chilly  autumn  frowns  severe  ; 

Then  charm  me  with  thy  parting  lay, 
And  I  will  answer  w  ith  a  trar. 

Then  charm  me  v.  ith  thy  parting  lay, 
And  I  will  answer  with  a  tear. 

But  soon  as  spring  enrich'd  with  flowers 
Comes  dancing  o'er  the  new-divst  plain  ; 

Return  and  cheer  thy  natal  bow'rs, 
My  Robin,  with  those  notes  again. 

Return,  and  cheer  thy  natal  bow'rs. 
My  Robin,  with  those  notei  again 


MINSTREL.  283 

PUSH  ALONG,  KEEP  MOVING. 
I  am  a  man  of  learning  and  the  ladies  call  me  pretty, 
Many  years  ago,  I  kept  a  school  in  famous  Boston  city; 
I  taught  the  arts  and  sciences,  tho'  somewhat  fond  of 

roving, 
And  the  science  of  my  motto  was,  to  push  along,  keep 

moving. 

Spoke?i.—Yes,  I  kept  a  school,  and  taught  little  boys  to 
say  ab's  eb's  ub's  lud's  and  mud's,  and  there  we  used  to 
stick  fast  'till  I'd  tickle  them  with  my  rattan,  to  make 
them  push  along,  push  along,  push  along  keep  moving. 

I  had  a  wife,  and  she  was  young  to  think  of  wedlock's 

toys, 
She  would  not  let  me  keep  a  school,  because  I  whipt 

the  boy3  ; 
So  a  doctor  shop  I  then  set  up,  my  talents  thus  im- 
proving, 
But  a  doctor  shop  would  never  do,  to  push  along 
keep  moving. 
Spoken.—It  was  'oh  dear  sir,  oh  dear  me:'  well  good 
woman  what's  the  matter  ?  '  Why  sir  my  husband  has 
been  to  one  of  those  Lafayette  dinners,  and  has  got  the 
leg  of  a  turkey  down  his  throat— that's  very  serious  in- 
leed— 'yes,  and  I  ordered  Polly  to  scour  the  tongs  to  get 
t  out;'  Well  did  she  get  it  out  ?  'No  sir,  I  want  you  to 
get  it  out,— for  if  you  don't,  he  never  will  be  able  to 
>ush  along,  &c\ 

\  doctor  shop  I  soon  gave  up,  'twas  every  body's  cry, 
3h  don't  you  take  that  fellow's  stuff,for  if  you  do  you'll 

die ; 
Vol.  [.  T 


290  MINSTREL. 

So  a  baker 'a  shop  I  then  set  up,  my  talents  thus  improv- 
ing, 

But  a  baker  shop  would  never  do,  to  push  along  keep 
moving. 

Spoken.—6  Will  you  please  to  let  mc  have  a  loaf  oi 
bread?'  Yes  my  little  man,  here  it  is-—'  bless  me  sir,your 
bread  is  very  light !'  then  you  will  have  the  less  to  carry 
—'here  is  the  money'— come  back  you  little  scoundrel, 
here  is  not  enough—'  then  you  will  have  the  hss  to 
count'— ah  you  are  up  to  me  this  time,  but  I  will  b^ 
down  to  you  the  next.—'  Will  you  please  to  let  me  have 
a  three  cent  loaf  of  bread,  and  as  soon  as  my  husband 
comes  home,  I  will  pay  you  all  off,  I  owe  you?'  No 
good  woman,  I  can't,  for  if  I  was  to,  I  never  should 
be  able  to  push  along,  ike. 

In  vain  I  thought  to  get  my  bread  by  baking  it  for 
others, 

And  trusting  it  all  out  again  to  little  children's  mothera; 

So  a  grocery  shop  I  then  set  up,  my  talents  thus  im- 
proving, 

But  a  grocery  shop  would  never  do,  to  push  along 
keep  moving. 

Spoke?}.— ■«  I  say  mister,  will  you  be  after  letting  me 
have  a  pint  of  whiskey,  and  may  the  devil  fly  away 
with  the  roof  of  my  jacket  if  I  don't  pay  you  all  off  I 
owe  you  on  Saturday  night?'  You  won't  forget  will 
you  ?'— No,  I'll  be  blam'd  if  I  do— well  here  it  is. 

Stuttering.—'  Will  you  please  to  let  my  mother Iiavi 
a  pennywoilh  of  pepper,  and  wrap  it  up  in  a  piece  of 
paper  ?'  Let  your  mother  have  a  pennyworth  of  pep- 
per,  and  wrap  i<  up  m  a  piece  of  paper  ?'— Here  take 
it  and  elcar  out, 

i 


MINSTREL.  291 

tt  length  gtew  fond  of  gin,  my  store  was  dis- 
appearing, 
'Till  death  at  last  soon  put  an  end,  ami  then  I  went  a 

roving. 

sy,  ,A,  »j.— '  Then  I  came  down  to  this  great  city  and 
found  ever)  body  w;is  trying  to  do  what  I  was,  that  is 
to  push  along,  push  along,  push  along,  keen  moving. 


SWEETS  OF  AFFECTION. 
When  1  fust  saw  the  youth  who  to  me  came  a  wooing, 
Down  by  yon  banks  where  the  waves  gently  flow, 
1'was  tlu  re  the  soft  language  my  courage  subduing, 
First  taughi  me  the  sweets  of  affection  to  know. 
Twas  there  he  sang  gaily;  my  fancy  entrancing, 
That  I  scarcely  be-liov'd  that  the  night  was  advancing, 
The  moon  beam'd  so  gay,  the  wave  s'  tops  were  dancing, 
Down  by  yon  banks  where  the  waves  gently  flow. 
Down  by  yon  banks,  &c. 

I  strove  not  to  listen,  but  how  could  I  deceive  him, 
[Down  by  yon  banks  where  the  waves  gently  flow; 
lie  swore  he  would  die  if  I  did  not  believe  him, 
And  this  is  no  time  to  kill  sailors  you  know, 
^t  parting  he  look'd,  and  heav'd  such  a  sigh,  too, 

illy  believe  he'd  a  tear  in  his  eye,  too ; 
'Mk  (  anforgi  t  it,  I  can't  say  that  I  do, 

I  auks  where  tin  rj  How, 

Down  by  ybn  bank* 


292  MINSTREL. 


I  SAW  THY  FORM  IN  YOUTHFUL  PRIME. 

I  saw  thy  form  in  youthful  prime, 

Nor  thought  that  pale  decay 
Would  steal  before  the  steps  of  time, 

And  waste  its  bloom  away,  Mary  ! 

Yet  still  thy  features  wore  that  light, 

Which  fleet  not  with  the  breath  ; 
And  life  ne'er  look-d  more  purely  bright 

Than  in  thy  smile  of  death,  Mary  ! 

As  streams  that  ran  o'er  golden  mines, 

With  honest  murmur  glide, 
Nor  seeai  to  know  the  wealth  that  shines 

Within  their  gentle  tide,  Mary  ! 

So,  reiFd  beneath  a  simple  guise, 

Thy  radiant  genius  shone, 
And  that  which  charm'd  all  other  eyes, 

Seem'd  worthless  in  thy  own,  Mary  ! 

If  souls  could  always  dwell  above, 
Thou  ne'er  had'st  left  thy  sphere  ; 

Or  could  we  keep  the  souls  we  love, 
We  ne'er  had  lost  thee  here,  Mary ! 


Though  many  a  gifted  mind  we  meet, 
Though  fairtst  forms  we  see, 

To  live  with  them  is  far  less  sweet* 
Than  to  remember  thee,  Mury ! 


MINSTREL,  293 

BEHAVE  YOURSEL'  BEFORE  FOLK. 

Air— "  Good  morroxvto  your  night  cap.'1'' 
Behave  yoursel*  before  folk, 
Behave  yoursel*  before  folk, 
And  dinna  be  sae  rude  to  me, 

As  kiss  me  sae  before  folk. 

It  wad  nae  gi"e  me  meikle  pain, 
Gin  we  were  seen  and  heard  by  nane, 
To  tak'  a  kiss,  or  grant  you  ane  ; 

But  gudsake !  not  before  folk, 

Behave  yoursel*  before  folk, 

Behave  yours« -1'  before  folk, 
Whate'er  you  do  when  outo'  view, 

Be  cautious  ay'  before  folk. 

Consider,  lad,  how  folk  will  erack, 
And  what  a  gn  at  affair  they'll  mak', 
O'  naething  but  a  simple  smack, 

That's  gi'en  or  ta'en  before  folk  ; 

Behave  yoursel'  before  folk, 

Behave  yoursel'  before  folk, 
Nor  gi'e  the  tongue  o'  ould  and  young:, 

Occasion  to  come  o'er  folk, 

lU  nae  through  hatred  o'  a  kiss, 
That  I  sae  plainly  tell  you  this, 
But,  losh  !  I  tak'  it  sair  amiss, 

To  be  sae  teaz'd  before  folk, 

Behave  yoursel'  before  folk, 

Behave  younel'  before  folk, 
When  we're  alane,  ye  may  tak' ane, 

But  feint  a  ane  before  folk. 


9M  MINSTREL. 

I'm  sure  \vi'  you  I've  been  as  free, 
As  ony  mockst  lass  should  be ; 
But  yet  it  does  na  do  to  see 

Sic  freedom  used  before  folk, 

Behave  yoursel'  before  folk, 

Behave  yoursel'  before  folk. 
I'll  ne'r  submit  again  to  it— 

So  mind  you  that— before  folk. 
Ye  tell  me  that  my  face  is  fair ; 
It  may  be  sac— I  dinna  care- 
But  ne'er  again  gar't  blush  sae  sair 

As  ye  hae  done  before  folk, 

Behave  yoursel'  before  folk, 

Behave  yoursel'  before  folk  ; 
Nor  heat  my  cheeks  wi'  your  mad  freaks, 

But  ay  be  douce  before  folk. 
Ye  tell  me  that  my  lips  are  sweet ; 
Sic  talcs,  I  doubt,  are  a'  deceit, 
At  ony  rate  it's  hardly  meet 

To  prie  their  sweets  before  folk, 

Behave  yoursel'  before  folk 

Behave  yoursel'  before  folk, 
Gin  that's  the  case,  there's  time  and  place, 

But  surely  na  before  folk. 
But  gin  you  really  do  insist, 
That  I  should  suffer  to  be  kiss'd, 
Gae,  get  a  licence  frae  the  priest, 

And  mak'  me  yours  before  folk, 

Behave  yoursel'  before  folk, 

Behave  yoursel'  before  folk  ; 
And  when  we'ere  ane,  baith  flesh  nnJ  bane. 

Ye  may  tak*  ten- before  folk.  Rogt 


MI\>    ! 


TYPOGRAPHICAL  SOI 

Our  Country's  like  a  PriAting 

And  I  will  tell  you  why  ; 
A  royal  botch  controll'd  it  once, 

Who  threw  it  all  in/;/. 
But  soon  we  ousted  such  a  donee, 
And  all  his  ratting  race- 
Drove  in  swarms, 
Beat  theuforms, 
Or  lock'd  them  up  in  chase. 

Ihv.ii  free-barn  drtiit*  took  the  rule, 

And  soon  a  work  began, 
By  Nature's  glorious  Author  wrote, 
*  The  Charter'd  Rights  of  Man." 
Who  cast3  a  slur  on  text  or  note, 
True  honour  never  felt, 
Let  the  brute 
Feelthe/ort, 
And  2  raw/  him  like  a  pelt. 

While  honest  critics  disagree, 

In  faults  they  think  they  find, 
Let  half-way  workman  stand  aloof, 

For  they  are  worse  than  blind. 
Since  Washington  has  read  the  proof, 
And  Franklin  the  revise, 
Every  line 
Is  divine, 
Recorded  in  the  :!. 


MINSTREL. 

The  wretch  who  batters  such  a  form, 

Shall  have  a  traitor's  due, 
And  find,  when  sununon'd  to  the  bar, 

The  gallows  stands  in  view. 
Then  let  the  coffin  be  his  car, 
The  sheeps-foot  ring  his  knell, 
Devils  swarm 
Round  his form, 
And  throw  him  into  hell. 


GAILY  SOUNDS  THE  CASTANET. 

Gaily  sounds  the  Castanet, 
Beating  time  to  bounding  feet, 

When,  after  daylight's  golden  set, 
Maids  and  youths  by  moonlight  meet. 

Oh !  then,  how  sweet  to  move 

Thro'  all  that  maze  of  mirth, 
Lighted  by  those  eyes  we  love, 

Beyond  all  eyes  on  earth. 

Then  the  joyous  banquet  spread 
On  the  cool  and  fragrant  ground, 

With  night's  bright  eye-beams  o'er  head  j 
And  still  brighter  sparkling  round* 

Oh !  then,  how  sweet  to  say 

Into  the  lov'd  one's  ear, 
Thoughts  reserv'd  through  many  a  day, 

To  be  thus  whisper'd  there. 


MINSTREL.  297 

When  the  dance  and  feast  arc-  done. 

Arm  and  arm  as  home  we  stray, 
How  sweet  to  see  the  dawning  sun 

O'er  her  cheek's  warm  blushes  play. 

Then,  then  the  farewell  kiss, 

And  words  whose  parting  tone 
Lingers  still  in  dreams  of  bliss 

That  haunt  young  hearts  alone.        T.Moore. 


LET  ERIN  REMEMBER. 

Let  Erin  remember  the  days  of  old, 

Ere  faithless  sons  betray 'd  her; 
When  Malachi  wore  the  collar  of  gold, 

Which  he  won  from  her  proud  invader  ; 
When  her  king  with  standard  of  green  unfurlM, 

Led  the  Red  Branch  knights  to  danger, 
Ere  the  emerald  gem  of  the  western  world 

Was  set  in  the  crown  of  a  stranger. 

On  Lough-Neagh's  bank,  as  the  fisherman  strays, 

When  the  clear  cold  evers  declining, 
He  sees  the  round  towers  of  other  days 

In  the  wave  beneath  him  shining ! 
Thus  shall  memory  often,  in  dreams  sublime, 

Catch  a  glimpse  of  the  days  that  are  over ; 
Thus  sighing,  look  through  the  wave  of  time, 

For  the  long  faded  glories  they  cover. 

T.  Moore. 


MINSTREL. 


OH!  BREATHE  NOT  HIS  NAME, 

Oh !  breathe  not  his  name,  let  it  sleep  in  the  shade. 
Where  cold  and  unhonour'd  his  relics  arc  laid  ; 
Sad,  silent,  and  dark,  be  the  tears  that  we  shed, 
As  the  night-dew  that  falls  on  the  grass  o'er  his  head. 

But  the  night-dew  that  falls,  tho*  in  silence  it  weeps, 
Shall  brighten  with  verdure  the  grave  where  he  sleep95 
And  the  tear  that  we  shed,  though  in  secret  it  rolls, 
Shall  long  keep  his  memory  green  in  our  souls. 

T«  Moore, 


'TIS  THE  LAST  ROSE  OF  SUMMER. 

5Tis  the  last  rose  of  summer,  left  blooming  alone  ; 
All  her  lovely  companions  are  faded  and  gone ; 
No  flower  of  her  kindred,  no  rose-bud  is  nigh. 
To  reflect  back  her  blushes  or  give  sigh  for  sigh ! 

I'll  not  leave  thee,  thou  lone  one !  to  pine  on  the  stem 
Since  the  lovely  are  sleeping,  go,  sleep  thou  with  them; 
Thus  kindly  I  scatter  thy  leaves  o'er  thy  bed, 
Where  thy  mates  of  the  garden,  lie  scentless  and  dead 

So  soon  may  I  follow,  when  friendships  decay, 
And  from  love's  shining  circle,  the  gems  drop  away! 
When  true  hearts  lie  wither'd ,  and  fond  ones  are  flown^. 
Oh  !  who  would  inhabit  this  bleak  world  alone  ? 

T.  Moore 


MINSTREL. 

BEWARE  O'  BONTE  ANN 

i .  gallants  bright,  I  rede  yen 

Beware  o'  bonie  Ann  ; 
Her  comely  face  sac  fu*  cr  grac* , 

Your  heart  she  will  trepan. 
H.  r  eon  sae  bright,  like  stars  by  night, 

Her  skin  is  like  the  swan  ; 
Sae  j imply  lae'd  her  genty  waist, 

That  sweetly  she  might  span. 

Youth,  grace  nnd  love,  attendant  move, 

And  pleasure  leads  the  van; 
In  a'  their  charms,  and  conquering  arms, 
Th  y  wait  uii  bonie  Ann. 

:  iy  chain  the  hands, 
Hut  love  enslaves  the  man  ; 

Hants  braw,  I  rede  you  a,' 
BeWare  o'  bonie  Ann. 


MY  XANTE'S  AW  A. 
\Tow  iii  her  green  mantle  blithe  nature  arrays, 
\nd  listens  the  lambkins  that  bleat  o'er  the  braes, 
kVhile  birds  warble  welcome  in  ilka  green  shaw  ; 
ut  to  me  its  delightkss— my  N'anie's  awa. 

The  snaw-drap  and  primrose  our  woodlands  adorn, 
Vnd  Toilets  bathe  in  the  weet  o1  the  morn  ; 
They  pain  my  sad  bosom,  sao  sweetly  they  bfarw, 
fhey  m''v 


300  MINSTREL. 

Thou  lav'rock  that  springs  frae  the  dews  of  the  lawn, 
The  shepherds  to  warn  o'  the  grey-breaking  dawn  ; 
And  thou,  mellow  mavis,  that  hails  the  night  fa', 
Give  over  for  pity— for  Nanie's  awa. 
Come  autumn  sae  pensive,  in  yellow  and  grey, 
And  soothe  me  wi'  tidings  o'  nature's  decay  ; 
The  dark,  dreary  winter,  and  wild-driving  snaw, 
Alane  can  delight  me— now  Nanie's  awa. 


I  SAW  FROM  THE  BEACH- 
I  saw  from  the  beach,  when  the  morning  was  shining, 

A  bark  o'er  the  waters  move  gloriously  on  ; 
I  came  when  the  sun  o'er  that  beach  was  declining— 

The  bark  was  still  there,  but  the  waters  were  gone ! 
Ah !  such  is  the  fate  of  our  life's  early  promise, 

So  passing  the  springtide  of  joy  we  have  known : 
Each  wave  that  we  danc'd  on  at  morning  ebbs  from  us, 

And  leave  us,  at  eve,  on  the  bleak  shore  alone  I 

Ne'er  tell  me  of  glories  serenely  adorning 

The  close  of  our  day,  the  calm  eve  of  our  night ; 
Give  me  back,  give  me  back,  the  wild  freshness  of 
morning, 
Her  clouds  and  her  tears  are  worth  evening's  best 
light. 
Oh,  who  would  not  welcome  that  moment's  returning, 
When  passion  first  wak'd  a  new  life  though  his 
frame  ; 
And  his  soul,  like  the  wood,  that  grows  precious 
burning 
Gave  out  all  its  sweets  to  love's  exquisite  flame ! 

T.  Moor* 


MINSTREL.  SOI 

BLOW  HIGH  BLOW  LOW. 
Blow  high,  blow  low,  let  tempests  tear 

The  main-mast  by  the  board, 
My  heart  with  thoughts  of  thee,  ray  dear, 

And  love  well  stor'd, 
Shall  brave  all  dangers,  scorn  all  fear, 

The  roaring  winds,  the  raging  sea, 
In  hopes  on  shore  to  be  once  niore 

Safe  moor'd  with  thee. 

Aloft,  while  mountains  high  we  go, 
The  whistling  wind  that  scud  along, 

And  the  surge  roaring  from  below, 
Shall  my  signal  be  to  think  on  thee, 

And  this  shall  be  my  song- 
Blow  high,  blow  low,  &c. 

And  on  that  night  when  all  the  crew 

The  mem'ry  of  their  former  lives, 
O'er  flowing  cans  of  flip  renew , 

And  drink  their  sweethearts  and  their  wives, 
I'll  heave  a  sigh  and  think  on  thee  ; 

And  as  t  lie  ship  rolls  through  the  sea, 
The  burden  of  my  song  shall  be — 

Blow  high,  blow  low,  &c.  Dibdin 


JEAX  AXDERSON,  MY  JO. 
When  nature  first  began,  Jean, 

To  try  her  eannie  hand, 
It's  true  she  first  made  man,  Jean, 

And  fcatf  him  great  command  ; 


MINSTREL, 

But  nat  thing  wad  content  him,  J< 

Tlio'  king  o'  a'  below, 
Till  heaven  in  pity  sent  him,  Jean, 

"What  maist  he  wish't— a  jo  ! 

Tho'  some  may  say  I'm  auld,  Jean, 

An'  say  the  same  o'  thee, 
Ne'er  fret  to  hear  it  tauld,  Jean, 

You  stiil  look  young  to  me : 
An'  vveel  I  mind  the  day,  Jean, 

Your  breast  was  white  as  snow, 
An'  waist  saejimp,ane  might  it  span,— 

Jean  Anderson,  my  jo ! 

Our  bonny  bairns'  bairns,  Jean, 

WF  rapture  do  I  see, 
Come  toddlin'  to  the  fireside, 

Or  sit  upon  my  knee : 
If  there  is  pleasure  here,  Jean, 

Or  happiness  below, 
This  surely  maun  be  likest  it, 

Jean  A  nderson ,  my  j  o ! 

Though  age  has  sillar'd  owrc  my  pow, 
Sin'  we  were  first  acquaint, 

An'  changed  my  glossy  raven  lock, 
It's  left  us  still  content ; 

An'  eld  ne'er  comes  alane,  Jean, 
But  aft  brings  many  a  wo, 

Yet  we've  nae  cause  for  sic  comp] 
Jean  Anderson,  my  i<  ' 


Innocent  we've  spent  uia  d 

ArT  pleasant  looks  ike  past  ; 
Nae  anxious  thoughts  alarm  us, 

W<  're  eheerfu'  to  the  last : 
Till  death  knock  at  our  door,  Jean, 

And  warn  us  baith  to  go, 
Contented  we  will  live  an1  love, 

Jean  Anderson,  my  jo  ! 

It's  now  a  lang,  lang  time,  Jean, 

Sin'  you  an'  I  begun 
To  spraehel  up  life's  hill,  Jean, 

Our  race  is  nearly  run  ; 
We  baith  hac  done  our  best,  Jean, 

Our  sun  is  wearin'  low  ; 
Sae  let  us  quietly  sink  to  ret, 

Jean  Anderson,  my  jo !  Burnt, 


WHAT  A  BEAUTY  I  DID  GROW, 
When  I  was  a  little  boy, 

Some  fifteen  years  ago, 
I  was  the  pride  of  mammy 's  heart, 

Lord  she  made  me  quite  a  show. 

Such  a  beauty  I  did  grow, 

I'd  red  straight  hijir  and  goggle  ey&» 
And  such  a  rogueish  leu  ; 
fl  it  nose,  and  mouth 
rfctl  ;•  .'.'h'd  from  cai  to  car 


304  MINSTREL. 

My  mammy  doted  on  me, 
And  when  my  mouth  she'd  fill, 

For  fear  sherd  spoil  it  with  a  spoon, 
She  fed  me  with  a  quill. 

Such  a  beauty,  &c. 

And  when  that  I  eould  run  alone, 

Stock  still  I  never  stood  ; 
The  ducks  were  my  companions, 

As  I  waddled  through  the  mud. 
Such  a  beauty,  &c. 
Then  I  learned  to  be  musical, 

And  got  of  songs  so  pat, 
I  could  grunt  bass  like  any  pig, 

Mew  treble  like  a  cat. 

Snch  a  beauty,  &c. 

Then  I  went  to  a  dancing  school, 

For  to  be  finish'd  there, 
And  they  said  I  danced  a  minuet 

As  graceful  as  a  bear. 

Such  a  beauty,  &c. 

With  a  mountebank  a  candidate, 
I  beat  them  all  quite  hollow, 

And  I  won  this  pretty  gold  laced  hat 
By  grinning  through  a  collar. 
Such  a  beauty,  &c. 

My  name  is  Tommy  Herring, 

As  every  body  knows, 
And  they  stick  me  in  the  barley  fields, 

To  frighten  off  the  crows. 

Such  a  beauty,  &c. 


TREL. 


ST.  PATRICK  WAS  A  GENTLEMAN. 

St.  Patrick  was  a  getleman,  and  came  from  decent  pco- 

pli  . 
InDublin  town  he  built  a  church  and  on  it  put  a  steeple; 
Ittsfather  was  a  Wollaglian,and  his  mother  anO'Grady, 
Mis  auni  she  was  a  Kinaghan,  and  his  wife  a  widow 
Brady. 
Toorallco  tooralloo,  what  a  glorious  man  our  St.  was, 
Tooraloo,  tooralloo,  O  whack  fal  de  lal,  d<  lal,  ccc. 

Och  !  Antrim  hills  are  mig-hty  high  and  so's  the  hill  of 

Howth  too  ; 
Put  we  all  do  know  a  mountain  that  is  higher  than 

tin  ni  both  too  ;  * 

on  the  top  of  that  high  mount,  St.  Patrick 

preach'd  a  sermon, 
He  drove  the  frogs  into  the  bogs,  and  banished  all  the 

V'.rinin. 

Toollaroo,  &c. 

No  wornl-  v  that  we  Irish  lads,  then,  are  so  blythe  and 
frisk 

St,  Patrick  was  the  very  man  that  taught  us  to  drink 
whiskey  ; 

Och  :  to  be  sure,  he  liad  the  knack  and  understood  dis- 
tilling-, 

For  his  mother  kept  a  shebeen  shop,  near  the  town  of 
1  illtii. 


Ml  MINSTREL 

BARNEY  BODK 
Barney  Bodkin  broke  his  nose, 

Want  of  money  makes  us  sad, 
"Without  feet  we  can't  have  toes, 

Crazy  folks  are  always  mad. 
A  farthing  rush-light's  very  small, 

Doctors  wear  large  bushy  wigs, 

One  that's  dumb  can  never  bawl, 

Pickled  pork  is  made  of  pigs. 

Hi  turn  tweedle  tweedle  del, 
A  yard  of  pudding's  not  an  ell, 
Not  forgetting  ti'th'rum  ti, 
A  taylor's  goose  can  never  By. 

Patriot's  say  they'll  mend  the  nation, 

Pigeons  will  make  pretty  pies, 
Lawyers  deal  in  botheration, 

A  gun's  too  big  for  shooting  Biea, 
Irish  whiskey's  very  good, 

Lundy-foot  will  make  you  sneeze, 
Wig-blocks  they  are  made  of  wood, 

Pepper's  good  with  butter'd  peas. 
Ri  turn,  &c. 
Times  will  grow  better,  never  fear, 

Old  maids  in  scandal  take  delight, 
Candles  now  are  very  dear, 

Roguery  must  come  to  light. 
Lim'rick  gloves  an't  made  for  pigs, 

Very  seldom  asses  die, 
Plumb-pudding  must  be  stuff 'd  wi'.h  figs,. 

Kilwonh  mountain's  very  high. 
Ri  turn,  &e 


MINSTREL.  3<>7 

Poppet  shows  young  folks  amuse, 

Christmas  cornea  but  once  a  year, 
Wooden  lers  wear  out  no  shoes, 

Seven-pence  a  quart  is  beer, 
Taylors  cabbage  all  your  cloth, 

Shin*  of  beet' are  very  tough, 
Flummery  is  just  like  froth, 

Mrs.  Clarke  is  up  to  snuff. 

Ri  turn,  &c. 

We  shall  live  until  we  die, 

Barney  have  the  girls  alone, 
Catsup  an*t  good  with  apple-pie, 

Church  Maiden's  hearts  are  made  of  stone, 
Jolly  tan  are  fond  of  fun, 

For  Liberty  we'll  nobly  shout, 
And  now,  good  folks,  my  song  is  done, 

Nobody  knows  what  'twas  about. 
Hi  turn,  ike. 


THE  LAST  BUGLE. 
Hark  !  the  muffled  drum  sounds  the  last  march  of  the 

brave, 

The  soldier  retreats  to  his  quarters,  the  grave, 
under  Death,  whom  lie  o\\  ns  his  Commander  in  chief; 
NTo  more  hell  turn  out  with  tin-  ready  lvlief, 
Hut  in  spite  of  Death's  terrors  or  hostile  alarms, 
When  he  hears  the  last  bugle, 
When  he  ht  an  the  last  bugle,  he'll  stand  to  his  arms. 


308  MINSTREL. 

Farewell  brother  soldier,  in  peace  raa>  thou  rest, 

And  light  lie  the  turf  on  each  veteran  breast, 

Until  that  review  when  the  souls  of  the  brave, 

Shall  behold  the  Chief  Ensign,  fair  Mercy's  flag  wave; 

Then,  freed  from  death's  terrors  and  hostile  alarms, 

When  we  hear  the  last  Bugle, 

When  we  hear  the  last  Bugle,  we'll  stand  to  our  arms. 


THE  BUCKET. 

How  dear  to  this  heart  are  the  scenes  of  my  childhood, 

When  fond  recollection  recals  them  to  view, 
The  orchard,  the  meadow,  the  deep  tangled  wildu  cod^ 

And  ev'ry  lov'd  spot  which  my  infancy  knew  ; 
The  wide  spreading  pond,  and  the  mill  which  stood 
by  it, 

The  bridge,  and  the  rock  where  the  cataract  fell, 
The  cot  of  my  father,  the  dairy  house  nigh  it, 

And  e'en  the  rude  bucket  which  hung  in  the  vail, 
The  old  oaken  bucket— the  iron  bound  bucket — 

The  moss  covered  bucket,  which  hung  in  the  welty 

That  moss  covered  vessel  I  hail  as  a  treasure, 

For  often  at  noon  when  returned  from  the  field, 
T  round  it  the  source  of  an  exquisite  pleasure, 

The  purest  and  sweetest  that  nature  can  yield. 
How  ardent  I  seized  it,  with  hands  that  were  glowii 

And  quick  to  the  white  pebbled  bottom  it  f  II, 
Then  soon,  with  the  emblem  of  truth  over!, 

And  dripping  with  coolness,  it  rose  from  tl 
rhe  old  oaken  bucket— the  iron-hound  bu 


Mil 

1,  it  inclined  to  my  lips ; 
Not  a  full  blushing  goblet  could  tempt  me  to  h  ar«  it, 

Though  iill'd  witli  the  nectar  that  .Jupiter  sips. 
And  now,  far  remoVd  from  the  lov'd  situation, 

The  i  ar  of  regret  will  intrusively  swell, 
As  laiu\  n  visits  my  Father's  plantation) 

And  sighs  fur  the  bucket  which  hangs  in  his  well, 
The  old  oaken  bueket— the  iron-bound  bucket — 

The  moss  covered  bucket  which  hangs  in  his  weli 
Woodworth, 


BEHOLD  l\  HIS  SOFT. 
Behold  !  in  his  sofl  i  xpresii  e  face, 

Hi  r  \\<  II  known fe  tuns  here  I  see, 
\ml  here  her  gentle  smile  can  trace, 

Which  once  so  sweetly  beam'd  on  me ; 

Ah !  Rosalvin  !— 
Vh  !  Rosalie!  that  death  should  sever, 
Two  hearts  that  could  have  lov'd  for  ever. 

{ere  could  I  fancy  I  beheld 

In  thee,  sweet  lv.>y,  her  heavenly  charms ; 
fould  think,  by  hope  and  love  impcllM, 

I  clasp'd  her  offspring  in  my  arms. 

My  child  !  my  child  ! 
ly  child,  like  this,  was  lovely  ev<  r, 
till  death  decreed  our  heai r 

ArnoUl 


310  MINSTREL 


LAWRENCE  THE  BRAVE. 
The  streamers  were  flying,  the  canvass  was  spreading, 

The  banner  of  war  floated  high  in  the  air, 
The  gale  on  its  pinions  to  combat  was  speeding, 

The  chief  of  Columbia,  her  glory  in  war  ; 
Undaunted  he  stood,  as  the  billows  that  roll'd 

Round  the  barge  that  he  guided  through  ocean's 
blue  wave, 
His  helmet  was  honour,  and  fame  nerv'd  his  soul, 

To  gather  a  prize  worthy  Lawrence  the  brave. 

Columbia's  bright  genius  around  him  was  hov'ring, 

To  shield  her  lov'd  son  'mid  the  carnage  below, 
And  fate  from  the  impulse  of  valor  recovying, 

Seized  a  javelin  of  death  and  directed  the  blow  ; 
Ah  !  sad  was  the  hour,  when  she  saw  from  on  high,     \ 

The  cross  of  proud  Albion  triumphantly  uave, 
And  bitter  the  moment  she  view'd  with  a  sigh, 

On  the  deck,  pale  and  lifeless,  laid  Lawrence  the 
brave. 

Ah !  me,  she  exclaim'd,  has  my  hero  descended, 

From  glory's  meridian,  the  summit  of  fame, 
Shall  he,  who  while  dying,  his  country  defended, 

Like  his  form  be  forgotten,  forgotten  his  name  ? 
Ah  !  no,  for  the  tears  that  his  kindred  have  shed, 

Shall  water  the  laurel  that  blooms  on  his  grave.— 
She  ceas'd— and  lamenting  the  hero  who  bled, 

Shed  the  tear  drop  of  sorrow  IbrLawrence  the  brar< 


MINSTREL.  511 

ROLL  DRUMS  MERRILY. 
When  I  was  an  infant,  gossips  would  say, 
I'd  when  older 
Be  a  soldier, 
RattM  and  toys  I'd  throw  'era  away, 
Unless  a  gun  or  a  subre. 
When  a  younker  up  I  grew, 
I  saw  one  day  a  grand  review  ; 
Colours  flying 
Set  me  dying, 
To  embark  in  a  life  so  new. 
Roll  drums  merrily  march  away, 

Soldier's  glory  lives  in  story. 
His  laurels  are  green  when  his  locks  are  grey, 
Then  hey  for  the  life  of  a  soldier. 

Listed,  to  battle  I  march'd  along, 
Courting  danger, 
Fear  a  stranger, 
The  cannon  beat  time  to  the  trumpet's  song, 
And  made  my  heart  a  hero'3. 
'Charge,'  the  gallant  leaders  cry, 
On  like  lions  then  we  fly  ; 
Blood  and  thunder 
Foes  knock  under, 
Then  huzza  for  a  victor)-. 

Roll  drums,  &c. 
Who  so  merry  as  we  in  camp, 
Battle  over 
Live  in  clover, 
Care  and  his  cronies  are  forced  to  tramp, 
And  all  is  social  pleasure. 


312  MINSTREL. 

Then  \\>.  laugh,  we  quaff,  \ 
Time  goes  gaily  on  the  wing, 

Smiles  of  beauty 

Sweeten  duty, 
And  each  private  is  a  king. 

Roll  drums,  See 


ROBIX  ADAIR. 
What's  this  dull  town  to  me, 

Robin's  not  near. 
What  was't  I  wish'd  to  see  ? 

What  wish'd  to  hear? 
Where's  all  the  joy  and  mirth 
Made  this  town  a  heaven  on  earth  I 
Oh  I  they're  all  fled  with  thee, 

Robin  Adair. 

What  made  th'  assembly  shine  ? 

Robin  Adair. 
What  made  the  ball  so  tine  ? 

Robin  was  there. 
What,— when  the  play  was  o'er, 
What  made  my  heart  so  lore  ? 
Oh  !  it  was  parting  with 

Robin  Adair. 

But  now  thou'rt  cold  to  me, 

Robin  Adair. 
Eut  now  thou'rt  cold  to  me, 

Robin  Adair. 


Vet  he  i  . 

Still  in  my  heart  shall  dwell. 

Oh  !  1  can  neV  i  I 

Robin  Adair. 


THE  HANKS  OF  CHAMPLAIN. 
'Twas  autumn,  and  round  me  the  Laws  m  re  descend- 

And  lonely  the  Wood-pecker  peck'd  on  the  tree  ; 

Whilst  thousands  their  freedom  and  rights  were  de- 
fending. 

The  din  of  their  arms  sounded  dismal  to  me  ; 
For  Sandy, my  love,  was  engaged  in  the  action  ; 
Without  him  I  valued  the  world  not  a  traction  ; 
His  death  would  have  ended  my  life  in  distraction, 

As  lonely  I  stray'd  on  the  banks  of  Champlain. 

Then  turning  to  list  to  the  cannon's  loud  thunder, 
My  elbow  I  lean'd  on  a  rock  near  the  shore; 

The  sounds  nearly  parted  my  heart-strings  usunder, 
I  thought  I  should  see  my  dear  shepherd  no  more  ; 

But  soon  an  express  all  my  sorrows  suspended, 

My  thanks  to  the  Father  of  mercies  ascended  ; 

My  shepherd  was  safe  and  my  country  defended 
By  freedom's  brave  sons  on  the  banks  of  Champlain. 

I  wip'd  from  my  eyes  the  big  tear  that  had  started, 
\nd  hastened  the  news  to  my  parents  to  bear, 

Who  sigh'd  for  the  loss  of  relations  dc  part*  d, 
And  v  ings  that  banish*d  their  care, 


314  MINSTREL. 

The  cannon's  ceas'd  roaring,  the  drums  still  were  beat- 
ing; 

The  foes  of  our  country  far  north  were  retreating; 
The  neighbouring  damsels,  each  other  were  greeting 
With  songs  of  delight  on  the  banks  of  Champlain. 

Our  squadron  triumphant,  our  army  victorious, 
With  laurels  unfaded,  our  Spartan's  returned ; 

My  eyes  never  dwelt  on  a  scene  half  so  glorious ; 
My  heart  with  such  rapture  before  never  burn'd  ; 

But  Sandy, my  darling,  that  moment  appealing  ; 

His  presence  to  every  countenance  cheering, 

Was  renderd  to  me  more  doubly  endearing 
By  the  feats  he  performed  on  the  banks  of  Cham- 
plain. 

But  should  smiling  peace,  with  her  blessings  and  trea- 
sures, 

Soon  visit  the  plains  of  Columbia  again, 
What  pen  can  describe  the  enrapturing  pleasures, 

That  I  shall  experience  through  life  with  my  swain; 
For  then  no  wild  savage  will  come  to  alarm  us, 
Nor  worse,  British  foes  send  their  minions  to  harm  us, 
But  nature  and  art  will  continue  to  charm  us, 

Whilst  happy  we  live  on  the  banks  of  Champlain. 


HARK,  THE  VESPER  HYMN  IS  STEALING 
Hark,  the  vesper  hymn  is  stealing 
O'er  rhe  waters,  soft  and  clear- 
Nearer  yet,  and  nearer  pealing, 
Now  it  bursts  upon  the  ear. 


MINSTREL.  315 

Julielute, Anicn, 

Farther  now,  now  farther  stealing, 

Soft  it  fades  upon  the  ear  ; 
Farther  now,  £cc. 
Soft  it  lades,  &c. 
Now  like  moonlight  waves  retreating, 

To  the  shore  it  dies  along  ; 
Now  like  angry  surges  meeting, 

Breaks  the  mingled  tide  of  song. 
Hark  again,  like  waves  retreating, 

To  the  shore  it  dies  along  ; 
Hark  again,  8cc. 

To  the  shore,  gee.  T,  Moore. 


I  LOVE  MY  JEAN'. 
Of  a'  the  aii*s  the  wind  can  blaw, 

I  dearly  like  the  west. 
For  there  the  bonny  lassie  lives. 

The  lassie  I  lo"e  best  : 
There  wild-woods  grow,  and  rivers  How, 

And  mony  a  hill  betw  een  ; 
But  day  and  night  my  fancy's  flight 

Is  ever  wi'  my  Jean. 

I  see  her  in  the  dewy  flowers, 

I  see  her  sweet  and  fair  ; 
I  hear  her  in  the  tunefu'  birds, 

I  heartier  charm  tin-  nir ; 


I 

i  hate  ;  not  a  bonnk  8ow<  r  dial    | 
By  fountain,  sbaw,or  green, 

There's  not  a  bonnie  bird  that 
But  minds  me  o'  my  Jean. 

Upon  the  banks  of  flowing  Clyde, 

The  lasst  s  busk  them  braw, 
But  when  their  best  they  hae  put  on, 

My  Jennie  dings  them  a' ; 
In  hamely  weeds  she  far  exceeds 

The  fairest  of  the  town  ; 
Baith  sage  and  gay  confess  it  sae, 

Tho'  dress'd  in  rustic  gown. 

The  gamesome  lamb  that  sucks  the  dam, 

Mair  harmless  canna  be, 
She  has  nac  faut  (if  sick  we  c'at) 

Except  her  love  forme  : 
The  sparkling  dew,  of  clearest  hue, 

Is  like  her  shining  e'en  ; 
In  shape  and  air  wha  can  compare 

Wi*  my  sweet  lovely  Jean  ? 

O  blaw  ye  westlin  winds, blaw  salt, 

Amang  the  leafy  trees  ; 
Wi'  gentle  breath  frae  muir  an'  dale, 

Bring  hame  the  laden  bees  : 
And  bring  the  lassie  back  to  me, 

That's  ay  sae  neat  an'  clean  ; 
Ae  blink  o'  her  would  banish  eare* 

Sae  charming  is  my 


EL. 

What  sighs  and  vowsftmang  th<  nowes, 

Hae  pass*d  between  us  twa  ; 
How  fein  to  meet, how  wae  to  part, 

That  day  she  gaed  aw  a  ; 
The  powers  aboon  ean  only  ken, 

To  whom  the  heart  is  seen, 
That  nane  can  be  sac  dear  to  me, 

As  my  sweet  lovely  Jean. 

I  see  her  in  the  glassy  stream 

That  winds  along  the  vale, 
1  hear  her  inswei  I  eeho's  voice 

That  dies  along  the  gale : 
I'll  love  h>  r while  a  vital  spark 

Shall  shed  its  latest  gleam, 
Gay  nature's  charms  would  soon  depart 

If 'twere  na  Eh  my  Jean. 


A   M  \>;\S  A  MAX  FOR  A'  THAT, 
for  honest  poverty, 
angs  his  head  and  a' that? 
The  coward  slave  we  pass  him  by, 

And  dare  Ik-  poor  for  a*  that 
For  a'  that,  and  a*  that, 

Our  toils  obscure,  an'  a'  that, 
The  lank  is  but  the  guinea  stamp, 
ram's  the  gowd,  for  a' that. 
'  MihamcJ)  rare  aediw  . 


MINSTREL. 

Gie  fools  their  silk,  and  knaves  their  wine, 

A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that. 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 

Their  tinsel  show,  an'  a'  that ; 
An  honest  man,  though  ne'er  sae  poor, 

Is  chief  of  men  for  a'  that. 

Ye  see  yon  birkie,  ca"d  a  lord, 
Wha  struts  and  stares,  and  a* that, 

Tho'  hundreds  worship  at  his  w  ore!, 

He's  but  a  cuif  for  a'  that. 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that, 

His  riband,  star,  and  a"  that ; 
A  man  of independent  mind, 

Can  look,  and  laugh  at  a'  that. 

The  king-  can  mak'  a  belted  knight, 

A  marquis,  duke,  and  a'  that, 
An  honest  man's  aboon  his  might, 

Gude  faith  he  manna  fa"  that  1 
For  a'  that,  a] id  a'  that, 

His  dignities  and  a'  that ! 
The  pith  o"  sense,  and  pride  o'  worth y 

Are  grander  far  than  a'  that. 

Then  let  us  pray,  that  come  it  may, 

As  come  it  shall  for  a'  that  ; 
That  sense  and  worth  o'er  a'  the  earth, 

Shall  bear  the  gree,  and  a'  that ; 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that. 

It's  coming  yet,  for  a''  that  : 
'Whan  man  to  man,  tho  warld  o'er. 

Shall  brothers  he,  and  a'  that.  Lur 


MINSTREL.  319 

THE  RAISING. 

Came  mutter  my  lads,  your  mechanic:.!  tools, 

Your  saws  and  your a»  s,  your  hammers  and  rules ; 

Bnng  your  mallets  and  planes,  your  level  and  line, 

And  plenty  of  pins  of  American  pine. 

For  our  roof  we  will  raise,  and  our  song  still  shall  be, 
A  government  firm,  and  our  citizens  free. 

Com,-.  ap  with  tll(.  p]ategi  ]ay  them  fimi  Qn  the  wal]^ 

,  '<•  at  large,  thi  Ye  the  ground- work  of  all; 
Examine  them  well,  and  see  that  they're  sound, 
Let  no  rotten  parts  in  our  building  be  found  ; 
1  or  our  roof  we  will  raise,  and  our  song  still  shall  be, 
Our  government  firm,  and  our  citizens  free. 

Now  hand  up  the  girders,  lay  each  in  his  place, 
Between  them  the  joists  must  divide  all  the  space ; 
J.ike  assembly-men,  these  should  lie  level  along, 
Like  g.rders,  our  senate  prove  level  and  strong: 

*or  our  roof  we  will  raise,  and  our  song  still  shall  be, 

A  government  firm,  over  citizens  free. 

The  rafters  now  frame,  your  king-posts  and  braces, 
And Idnve  your  pins  home  to  keep  all  in  their  places 
Let*  isdom  and  strength  in  the  fabric  combine, 
And  vour  pins  be  all  made  of  American  pine  : 

*  or  the  roof  we  will  raise,  and  our  song  still  shall  be, 

A  government  firm,  over. 

Our  king-posts  are  judges-now  upright  they  stand, 
Strppoi  ting  the  braces,  the  lav  s  of  the  land  ; 


MINSTREL. 

The  law  of  the  land  which  divide  right  from  wrong  ; 

And  strengthen  the  weak,  by  weakening  the  strong. 
For  our  roof  we  will  raise,  and  our  song  still  shall  t 
Laws  equal  and  just,  for  a  people  that's  free. 

Lo !  up  with  the  rafters— each  frame  is  a  state  ! 

How  noble  they  rise !  their  span  too  how  great ! 

From  the  north  to  the  south,  o'er  the  whole  they  ex- 
tend, 

And  rest  on  the  walls,  while  the  walls  they  defend ! 
For  our  roof  we  will  raise,  and  our  song  still  shall  be, 
Combined  in  strength,  yet  as  citizens  free. 

Now  enter  the  purlins,  and  drive  your  pins  through, 
And  see  that  your  joints  are  drawn  home,  and  all  true, 
The  purlins  will  bind  all  the  rafters  together, 
The  strength  of  the  whole  shall  defy  wind  and  weather, 

For  our  roof  we  will  raise,  and  our  song  still  shall  be, 

United  as  States,  but  as  citizens  free. 

Come,  raise  up  the  turret,  our  glory  and  pride : 
In  the  centre  it  stands,  o'er  the  whole  to  preside ; 
The  sons  of  Columbia  shall  view  with  delight, 
Its  pillars  and  arches,  and  towering  height  ; 
Our  roof  is  now  raised,  and  our  song  still  shall  be, 
A  Federal  Head,  o'er  a  people  still  five. 

Huzza  !  my  brave  boys,  our  work  is  complete, 
The  world  shall  admire  Columbia's  fair  seat : 
Its  strength  against  tempest  and  time  shall  be  proof, 
And  thousands  shall  come  to  dwell  under  our  roof. 
While  we  drain  the  deep  bowl, our  toast  still  shell  I 
Our  Government  firm,  and  our  Citizens 


i  REL.  321 

MY  BONNIE  LASSIE. 

I  gajn  ray  bonnie  lassie,  lassie  smile  again, 
Prithee  do  not  frown,  sweet  lassie,  for  it  gives  me'pain; 
If  to  love  thee  too  sincerely  be  a  fault  in  me, 
I  hits  to  use  me  so  severely,  is  not  kind  in  thee. 
Then  smile  again  my  bonnie  lassie,  lassie  smile  again, 
Oh!  smile  agaio  my  bonnie  lassie,  prithee  smile  again. 

Fare-thee-wey  my  honnie  lassie,  lassie  fare-thee-well, 
I  Lme  will  show  thee,  bonnie  lassie,  more  than  tongue 

can  tell  ; 
I  hough  we're  doom'd  by  fate  to  sever,  and 'tis  hard  to 

part, 
Still  beliere  me,  thou  shalt  ever  own  my  faithful  heart, 
i  lien  smile  again,  &c. 


OH,  LADY  FAIR. 
First  voice. 
Oh  Lady  fair,  where  art  thou  roaming  ? 
h<-  sun  has  sunk,  the  night  is  coming. 
Second  voice. 
Stranger,  I  go  o'er  moor  and  mountain, 
To  tell  my  beads  at  Agnes'  Fountain, 

First  voice. 

A  ml  who  is  the  man  with  his  white  lock:  flov  ing  ? 
Oh  Lady  fair,  where  is  he  going  ? 

Third  voice. 
A  wand'ring  pilgrim  weak  I  falter, 
To  tell  my  beads  at  Agnes'  altar, 
V.M  X 


322  MINSTREL. 

Trio. 
Chill  falls  the  rain, night  winds  are  blowing, 

Dreary  and  dark's  the  way  we're  going. 

First  voice. 
Fair  Lady  !  rest  till  morning  blushes, 
I'll  strew  tor  thee  a  bed  of  rushes. 

Second  voice. 
Oh  !  stranger  when  my  beads  I'm  counting, 
I'll  bless  thy  name  at  Agnes*  Fountain. 

First  voice. 
Thou,  Pilgrim,  turn  and  rest  thy  Borrow, 
Thou'lt  go  to  Agnes'  shrine  to-morrow. 

Third  voice. 
Good  stranger  I  when  my  beads  I'm  t.  Iling, 
My  saint  shall  bless  thy  leafy  dwelling. 

Trio. 
Strew  then,  oh  strew  our  bed  of  t  o  ! :-    . 
Here  we  shall  rest  till  morning  blushes. 

T.  Moot 


IF  I  DO,  MAY  I  NEVER  BE  MARRIED. 
The  kiss  that  he  gave  when  he  left  me  behind, 

Scal'd  the  promise  of  Henry's  love  ;  1 

And  when  to  my  sailor  I'm  false  or  unkind, 

Such  falsehood  expect  from  the  dove :  I     1 

For  the  promise  of  lovers  should  n<  "<  rlx   (  , 

And  I  promised  my  lad,  the'  behind  him  I  tarrJB    ^ 
That  I  ne'er  would  forsake  him,  thu'  humbl<  ) 
And  03  if  I  do,  may  J 


MINSTREL. 

Now  the  winds  and  the  waves  boar  him  over  1 1 
The  gay  squire  would  give  me  fine  thing's ; 
Bui  what  are  his  riches,  his  grandeur  to  me, 

His  baubles,  his  ribbons,  and  rings : 
For  the  promise  of  lovers,  &e. 

His  cottage  is  low,  but  content  dwells  within, 
And  snug  is  the  thatch  o'er  the  door  ; 

For  riches,  without  hira,  I  care  not  a  pin, 
For  my  sailor's  the  lad  I  adore: 
For  the  promise  of  lovers,  &.c . 


ERIN'. 

\h,  pooh,  botheration,  dear  Ireland's  the  nation, 
Which  all  other  nations  together  excels  ; 

Where  worth,  hospitality,  conviviality, 
Friendship  and  open  sincerity  dwells  ; 

pure  I've  roam'd  the  world  over, from  Dublin  to  Dover, 
But  in  all  the  strange  countries  wherever  Pve  been, 
ne'er  saw  an  island  on  sea  or  on  dryland, 
Like  Paddy's  own  sweet  little  island  of  green. 

n  England  your  roses  make  bcatiful  posies, 
Provoke  Scotia's  thistle,  you  meet  your  reward  ; 

Itit  sure  for  its  beauty,  an  Irishman's  duty, 
"Will  teach  him  his  own  native  plant  to  regard. 

aim  Patrick  first  set  it,  with  tear-drops  he  wet  it, 
And  often  to  cherish  and  bless  it  was  seen, 
;  \  iiHi<  s  are  rare  too,  it's  fresh  and  it's  fair  too, 
n  island  so  gi 


324  MINSTREL. 

A  sprig  from  each  stem  is  a  neat  valued  gem, 
Which  the  bosoms  of  Erin's  fail  daughtei 

Together  united,  unsullied,  unblighted, 
A  blooming  and  beautiful  nosegay  it  forms : 

Ah,  long  may  they  flourish, and  heaven's  d^ws  nourish 
Each  warm  kindred  soil,  where  these  emM«  nu  ■ 
seen  ; 

May  no  fatal  blunder  e'er  rend  thorn  asunder, 
But  long  be  they  wreath'd  in  an  island  so  green. 

Oh  !  long  life  to  old  Ireland,  its  bogs  and  its  mireland! 

There's  not  such  a  universe  under  the  sun, 
For  honour,  for  spirit,  fidelity,  merit, 

For  wit  and  good  fellowship,  frolic,  and  fun  ; 
With  wine  and  with  whiskey ,when  once  it  gets  f  i  Key, 

An  Irishman's  heart  in  true  colours  is  seen , 
Wbile  with  mirth  overflowing,  with  love  it  is  glowing 

With  love  for  its  own  native  island  of  green. 


GLORIOUS  APOLLO. 

Glorious  Apollo  from  on  high  beheld  us, 

Wandering  to  find  a  temple  for  his  praise, 
Sent  Polyhymnia  hither  to  shield  us, 
Whilst  we  ourselves  such  a  structure  might  raise. 
Thus  then  combining, 
Hands  and  hearts  joining, 
Sing  we  in  harmony  Apollo's  praise. 

Here  every  generous  sentiment  awaking, 

Music  inspiring  unity  and  joy, 
Each  social  pleasure  giving  and  partaking, 

G!ec  and  good  humour  our  hours  eipplor. 
Thus  then  &c; 


MIXSTREL. 

DAINTY  DAVIE 
I  he  lasses  tain  wad  hue  from  me, 
A  sang  to  keep  them  a'  in  glee, 
But  ne'er  a  anc  I  hae  to  gie, 

Bnt  only  Dainty  Davie. 
I  It  arn'd  it  early  in  my  youth, 
When  barley  bannocks  caus'd  a  drouth, 
Whar  cronies  met  to  wcet  tlieir  mouth, 

Our  sang  was  Daint)  Davie, 

0  Dainty  Davie  is  the  thing, 

1  never  ketit  a  canty  spring, 

That  e'er  dev -r\'d  the  Highland  fling, 
Sae  weel  as  Dainty  Dai  it . 
When  friends  and  fouk  at  bridals  meet, 
Their  drouthy  moifs  and  craigs  to  weef , 
The  story  canna  be  complete 
Without  they've  Dainty  Davie. 
Sae  ladies,  tunc  your  spinnets  weel, 
An'  lift  it  up  wi'  a'  your  skill, 
There's  nac  strathspey,  nor  Highland  reel 
Comes  up  to  Dainty  Davie. 
O  Dainty  Davie,  &c. 

Though  bardies  a',  in  former  times, 

Hae  stain'dmy  sang  wae-worth  their  rhymes  ! 

They  had  but  little  mense,  wi'  crimes, 

To  blast  my  dainty  Davie. 
The  rankest  weeds  the  garden  spoil. 
When  labour  tak's  the  play  a  while, 
The  lamp  gaes  out  for  want  o*  oil  ; 

And  6ae  it  far'd  wi'  Davie. 
O  Dainty  Davie,  &c 


MINSTREL. 

There's  ne'er  a  bar  but  what's  complete, 
"While  ilka  note  is  ay  sae  sweet, 
That  auld  and  young  get  to  their  feet, 

When  they  hear  Dainty  Davie. 
Until  the  latest  hour  of  time, 
When  music  a1  her  pow'rs  shall  time, 
Each  hill,  and  dale,  and  grove  shall  ring 

Wi'  bonny  Dainty  Davie. 
O  Dainty  Davie,  See. 


EVA  DELISH. 
The  sun  was  set,  the  sea  was  calm, 

The  evening  breeze  had  died  away, 
The  falling  dew  was  fraught  with  balm, 

And  nature  hush'd  in  slumber  lay  ; 
'Twas  then  I  left  the  heath  clad  hill, 

And  hasten'd  towards  the  spreading  tree, 
To  meet  beside  the  winding  rill, 

My  Eva  delish  gramachree. 

That  night  of  bliss  too  swiftly  flew, 

While  vows  of  endless  love  we  swore, 
Ah  !  what  avaifd  our  love  so  true, 

When  doonrd  by  fate  to  meet  no  more  ? 
A  fever  o'er  her  limbs  had  spread, 

Which  tore  her  soon  from  love  and  me', 
And  cold  and  lowly  is  the  bed, 

Where  rest  my  delish  gramachree. 

Tho' years  are  past,  my  heart  oVrllows, 
Nor  yet  has  ccas'd  with  grief  to  swell. 


,my  bosom  knows, 
Save  on  the  mournful  theme  to  dwell ; 

And  oft  when  evening1!  dying  gale, 
Light  brushes  o'er  the  silvVing  sea, 

In  anguish  o'er  her  grave  I  wail, 
My  Eva  delish  gramachree  I 


GOOD  NIGHT  AND  JOY  HE  WI'  YE  A\ 
( rood  night  and  joy  be  wi'  ye  a', 

Your  harmless  mirth  lias  cheer'd  my  heart: 
May  life's  fell  blasts  out  o'er  ye  blaw  1 

In  sorrow  may  ye  ne'er  part ! 
My  spirit  fives  butstrengtb  is  gone  ; 

The  mountain  fires  now  blaze  in  vain, 
Remember,  sons,  the  deeds  I've  done, 
And  in  our  deeds  Til  live  again. 

•li  yon  niuir  our  gallant  clan 

Frae  boasting  fees  their  banners  tore, 
Wha  show  "d  himself  a  better  man, 

Or  fiercer  wav'd  the  red  elaymote? 
Dul  when  in  peace  then  mark  me  there, 

When  thro'  the  glen  the  wanderer  came; 
1  gave  him  of  our  hardy  1'are, 

I  gave  him  here  a  welcome  harue. 

The  avid  will  speak, the  young*  man  hear, 
Be  canty,  but  be  good  and  leal, 
•m  ill  aye  ha'e heart  to  bear, 


I  MINSTREL. 

So  here  I  set  I'll  see  you  shine, 
I'll  see  you  triumph  ere  I  fa' ; 

My  parting  breath  shall  breathe  yon  mine, 
Good  night  and  joy  be  wi'  ye  a' ! 


LUMPS  O'  PUDDING. 
Contented  wi'  little  and  canty  wi'  mair, 
Whene'er  I  forgather  wi'  sorrow  and  care, 
I  gie  them  a  skelp  as  they're  creeping  alang, 
Wi'  a  cog  o'  gude  ale,  and  an  auld  Scottish  sang. 

I  wyles  aw  the  elbow  o'  troublesome  thought, 
But  man  is  a  sodger,  and  life  is  a  fraught ; 
My  mirth  and  good  humour  are  coin  in  my  pouch, 
And  my  freedom's  my  hardship  nae  monarch  dare 
touch. 

A  towmond  o'  trouble  should  that  be  my  fa', 
A  night  o'  good  fellowship  southcrs  it  a'; 
When  at  the  blythe  end  of  our  journey  at  last, 
Wha  the  de'il  ever  thinks  o'  the  road  he  has  past. 

Blind  chance  let  her  snapper  and  stoyle  on  her  way, 
Be't  to  me,  be't  frae  me,  e'en  let  the  jade  gae, 
Come  ease,  come  travail,  come  pleasure  or  pain  ; 
My  warst  word  is,  Welcome,  and  welcome  again  ! 


FAREWEL  TO  LOCHABER. 
Farewcl  to  Lochaber,  and  farewel  my  Jean, 
Where  hcp.rtsome  ^vith  thee  I  ha*e  menv  din  s  been  ; 


MINSTREL 

ihiIk  r  bo  more,  Loehah 
We'll  may-be  return  to  Lochaber  no  more. 

us  that  I  shed  they  are  for  my  «l<  ;u , 
And  Qft'  fbt  the  dangers  attending  on  wier  ; 
Tho*  borne  on  rough  seas  to  a  far  bloody  shore, 
May  be  to  return  to  Lochaber  no  more. 

Tho1  hurricanes  rise,  and  raise  ev'ry  wind, 
They'll  ne'er  make  a  tempest  like  that  in  my  miud, 
Tho'  loudest  of  thunders  on  louder  waves  roar, 
That's  naething  like  leaving  my  love  on  the  shore. 
To  leave  thee  behind  me  my  heart  is  sair  pain'd ; 
But  by  ease  that's  inglorious  no  fame  can  be  gain'd  : 
And  beauty  and  lore's  the  reward  of  the  bi 
And  I  maun  deserve  it  before  I  can  crave. 

Then  glory,  my  Jean,  maun  plead  my  excuse  ; 
Since  honour  commands  me,  how  can  I  refuse  ? 
Without  it  I  ne'er  can  have  merit  for  thee, 
And  losing  thy  favor  I'd  better  not  be— 

ii.  my  lass,  to  win  glory  and  fame; 
And  if  I  should  chance  to  come  gloriously  hame, 
I'll  bring  a  heart  to  thee  with  iove  running  o'er, 
And  then  I'll  leave  thee  and  Lochaber  no  more. 


MA  VOURNEEN  DEELISH. 
Ah  !  sweet  were  the  moments  when  love  ron 

>   .ling  my  hero  first  plighted  his  truth  j 


330  MINSTREL. 

Ali !  blest  were  the  transports,  when  heart  to  heart 

beating-, 
I  first  own'd  by  conq'ror  the  pride  of  our  youth, 
Adoring",  imploring,  his  passion  revealing, 
Soft  blisses  and  kisses  from  me  fondly  stealing, 
No  thought  of  his  soul  from  his  true  love  concealing, 
Ma  voumeen  Deelish  Lion  Oge ! 

But  sad  was  the  day,  when  stern  duty  compelling, 
My  lover  departed  to  meet  the  proud  foe  ; 
Yet  blissful  the  hour  if  victorious  repelling, 
To  chase  from  my  slumbers  the  visions  of  woe. 
Return  then  my  hero,  no  longer  thus  grieve  me, 
Sweet  solace  of  life,  dear  hope  never  leave  me  ; 
Sweet  presage  of  bliss  !  oh  don't,  don't  deceive  me, 
Ma  Yourneen  Deelish  Lion  Oge ! 


HERE  THEN  WE  PART  FOR  EVER. 

Here  then  we  part  for  ever- 
Dear  though  thou  once  might  he, 
I  would  not  now  endeavour 

To  win  one  sigh  from  thee. 
Few  eyes  may  shine  so  bright  as  thine, 

Few  brows  may  be  so  fair, 
But  nor  eye  nor  brow  can  move  me  now, 
For  truth  is  wanting  there. 
Here  then  we  part  for  ever- 
Dear  though  thou  once  might  be 
I  would  not  now  endeavour 
To  win  one  sigh  from  thee. 


MINSTREL,  JJ 

when  it  is  plighted, 
Lies  withering  from  that  hour, 
Ami  the  fond  heart,  when  slighted, 

"Will  wither  like  the  How  'r. 
No  after  sun  that  beams  upon 

That  rose,  can  bloom  impart ; 
No  after  low  can  o'er  remove 

The  canker  from  that  heart. 

Here  then  we  part,  &c.  Sweeny, 


COMPLAINT. 
That  I  have  loved  thee  long  and  well, 
Mj  heart  cannot  refuse  to  tell — 
That  thou  hast  all  unworthy  proved 
Of  her  who  fondly,  tnilyjoved, 
1  cannot  choose  but  feel  and  know, 
And  yet  I  pray  it  were  not  so. 

Thou  hadst  been  worthy  well  of  me— 

O  !  had  I  then  been  worthy  thee  I 

If  thou  hadst  used  thy  better  part, 

Tin  loft\  soul  and  generous  heart ; 

And  not  by  guilty  passions  driven, 

Been  forced  from  me,  and  hope,  and  heaven. 

O  !  I  did  love  thy  manly  form, 
Thy  kindling  eye,  thy  bosom  warm, 
Thy  mighty  purpose,  upward  turn'd, 
Thj  soul,  that  all  with  i^lory  burn'd, 
Thy  noble  In  auty,  worthy  one, 


!  MINSTREL. 

But  now  I  love,  and  yet  must  hate 
The  leman's  tool,  the  villain's  mate, 
Thy  beauty  seared,  thy  spirit  gone, 
Thy  generous  bosom  turned  to  stone. 

0  !  hard,  such  torturing  grief  to  prove  ; 

1  would  but  hate,  and  yet  must  love.       PercivaL 


THE  BROWN  BEAUTY. 
While  Hushing  o'er  thy  olive  cheek, 
Like  the  morning's  dubious  break, 
"Virgin  shame  delights  to  spread 
Her  roses  of  a  deeper  red  ; 
And  those  ruddy  lips  of  thine 
Emulate  the  bleeding  vine ; 
Think'st  thou  Celia's  languid  white 
Can  allure  my  roving  sight, 
Or  my  bosom  catch  a  glow 
From  that  chilling  form  of  snow  ? 
In  those  orbs,  O  nymph  divine  I 
Stars  may  well  be  said  to  shine, 
Stars  whose  pointed  rays  are  made 
More  brilliant  by  surrounding  shade  ; 
Shade  thy  raven  locks  supply 
To  relieve  my  dazzled  eye. 
Trust  me,  thy  transcendant  face 
Takes  from  its  brown  a  mellow  grace  ; 
A  ripe  autumnal  bloom  benign 
Whence  all  the  loves  exulting  shine  ; 
As  jet  emits  a  glossy  light 
From  its  own  polish'd  surface  bright, 

Dei 


MINSTREL. 


FAREWELL. 

Then  Tuv  tin  e-well,  ray  own  dear  love, 

This  world  has  now  for  us. 
No  greater  grief,  no  pain  al>ove 

I  lie  pain  of  parting thus,  d<  M  love, 

'I  lie  pain  of  parting  thus. 

Had  we  but  known,  since  first  we  met, 
Some  Hew  short  hours  of  bliss, 

We  might,  in  numbering;  them,  forget 
The  deep,  deep  pain  of  this,  dear  love, 
The  deep,  deep  pain  of  this. 

But  no,  nlas !— "We've  never  seen 
One  glimpse  of  pleasure's  ray, 

Bat  still  there  came  some  cloud  between, 
And  ehas'd  it  all  away,  dear  love, 
And  ehas'd  it  all  away  ! 

Y.-t  .  Yn  could  those  sad  moments  last, 

Far  dearer  to  my  heart 
Were  hours  of  grief  together  past, 

I  hav  years  of  mirth  apart,  dear  lore, 

Than  years  of  ninth  apart. 

t  now.  II— our  hope  was  born  in  f!  an 
And  nurs'd  mid  vain  regrets  ; 

Like  winter  suns  it  rose  in  tears, 
Like  them  in  lean  ir  &  ts,  dear  '  i 


MINSTREL, 


THE  SPIRIT'S  SPOTLESS  PURITY. 
And  they  may  say  thy  long  dark  hair, 

Clustering  in  shadowy  ilow, 
Is  like  the  raven's  plumage  there, 

Veiling  the  moonlight  brow  ! 
The  roseate  flush  that  dyes  thy  cheek, 

All  bright  with  beauty's  glow, 
Is  like  the  radiant  crimson  streak 

Of  sunset  o'er  the  snow '. 
There  is  a  charm  more  bright  for  me— 

Thy  soul  of  sensibility. 

And  they  may  say  thy  soft  blue  eye, 

When  rais'd  its  living  shroud , 
Outshines  the  diamond  gem  on  high, 

That  lights  yon  azure  cloud  1 
Thy  lips,  as  plants  of  coral  red, 

In  bloom  where  pearl-drops  shine  I 
Thy  breath,  like  heavenly  incense  shed 

From  virtue's  holiest  shrine  ! 
There  is  a  charm  more  rich  to  me — 

Thy  heart's  long  proved  sincerity. 

And  they  may  say  thy  light  step,  where 
They  wake  the  graceful  dance, 

Is  like  a  seraph's  motion  there, 
Or  wild  bird's  swift-wing'd  glance. 

And  lingering  yet  thy  form  of  love 
aven! 


MINSTRl 

Thj  voice,  like  music  breath'd  above, 

Among  the  clouds  of  even ! 
There  is  a  charm  more  dear  to  me— 

Thy  spirit's  spotless  purity. 


HAL  BRAZEN. 

If<  re  full  i. f  sears  lies  poor  Hal  Brazen, 

Fur  whom  the  corps  lms  grieved  ; 
H<  Ml  ne'er  stand  sentry,  for  this  reason, 

By  death  he's  imu  relieved. 
Five  feet  six  incites  he  was  counted, 

And  brave  withal,  'twas  said  ; 

id  by  trim's  no  longer  mounted, 

He  halts  in  honor's  bed. 

I  la!  never  from  his  corps  deserted, 

He'd  face  a  ball  or  sword  ; 
m  nt  he  oft  diverted, 

And  Poll,  his  wife,  ador'd. 
How  oft  would  he  against  the  foe  march, 

Pursuing  all  that  fled. 
Farewell  his  quick  step,  and  his  slow  march, 

He  halts  in  honor's  bed. 

N '  i  I  lal  above  shall  be  promoted, 

When  his  commander  great, 
Shall  call  the  brave,  the  good,  the  noted, 

And  give  hp  orders  straight; 
Fo  handle  arms— the  word  is  given, 
And  trumpets  call  th< 
.   billeted  in  I : 
I 


!3G  MINSTREL. 

THE  NEAT  LITTLE  CO  IT 

The  fortune  I  crave,  and  sigh  for  no  more, 
Is  health  and  contentment,  apparel  and  feed, 

The  smile  of  affection  from  one  I  adore, 
And  the  neat  little  cottage  that  stands  n<  ar  a  wood 

While  slaves  of  ambition  sell  comfort  for  fame, 
Be  mine  the  applause  of  the  wise  and  the  good, 

A  conscience  that  daily  acquits  me  of  blame, 
And  a  neat  little  cottage  that  stands  near  a  wood. 

Let  others  for  grandeur  and  opulence  toil, 
I'd  share  not  their  turbulent  joys  if  I  could  ; 

ThD  treasure  I  seek  is  affection's  sweet  smile, 

And  a  neat  little  cottage  that  stands  near  a  wood. 


O  MY  BONNY  BET. 

No  more  I'll  court  the  town-bred  fair 

Who  shines  in  artificial  beauty  ; 
For  native  charms,  without  compare, 
Claim  all  my  love,  respect,  and  duly. 
O  my  bonny,  bonny  Bet,  sweet  blossom  ! 
Were  I  a  king,  so  proud  to  wear  thee, 
From  off  the  verdant  couch  I'd  bear  thee, 
To  grace  thy  faithful  lover's  bosom. 

Yet  ask  me  where  these  beauties  lie, 

I  cannot  say  in  smile  or  dimple, 
In  blooming  cheek  or  radiant  eye, 
Tb  happy  nature,  wild  and  simple. 
O  my  bonny,  bonny  B<  t 


I  REL.  337 

,,iu>  beau  f<<r  ladiei  pin«*, 
And  sigh  in  numbers  trite  and  common  ; 
Ye  gods  I  one  darling  wish  be  mine, 
And  all  I  ask  is  lovely  woman  ! 

O  my  bonny,  bonny  Bet,  &c. 

Come,  dearest  girl,  thy  rosy  bowls 

Like  thy  bright  eye  with  pleasure  dancing  ; 
My  heaven  art  thou,  so  take  my  soul, 
With  rapture  ei  ery  sense  entrancing. 

O  mv  bonny,  bonny  Bet,  &c. 

O'Keeffe. 


DICKY  GOSSIP. 
When  I  was  a  younker,  I  first  was  apprentie'd 

Unto  a  gay  barber,  so  dapper  and  airy  ; 
I  next  was  a  carpenter,  then  turn'd  a  dentist, 
Then  tailor,  good  lord  !  then  an  apothecary. 
But  for  this  trade,  or  that ; 
They  all  come  as  pat  as  they  can  ; 
For  shaving  and  tooth-drawing, 
Bleeding,  cabbaging,  and  sawing, 
Dicky  Gossip  is  the  man. 

Though  tailor  and  dentist  but  awkwardly  tether, 
In  both  the  vocations  I  still  have  sliavmgs ; 

And  two  of  my  trades  couple  rarely  together , 
For  barber  and  carpenter  both  deal  in  shavings 
So  for  this  trade  or  that,  &c. 

But  blunders  will  happen  in  callings  so  various, 
I  fancy  occur  to  some  who  are  prouder; 
Y 


38  MIN3T11F.I. 

1  once  gave  a  patient,  whose  health  was  precarious 
A  terrible  dose  of  my  best  shaving;  powder. 
But  no  mattei  tat  that,  eke. 

Prinir  Boat 


O  WHEN  MY  FARM  IS  TAKEN, 
O  w  hen  my  farm  is  taken, 
How  delightful  'twill  he  o'er  my  aen  9  to  stump  ! 
1  hi  n  I'll  marry  a  dairy  maid,  jolly  and  plump, 
Rut  she  shan't  be  as  fat  as  my  bacon. 
I'll  hire  a  lout  to  wield  the  flail, 

Small  beer  shall  serve  the  bumpkin  : 
While  I,  by  puzzling  home-brew'd  ale, 
Grow  rounder  than  a  pumpkin. 

I'll  have  hogs,  dogs,  cows,  sows, 
Turkies,  ducks,  and  barley-mows, 
ITarroAvs,  ganders,  bulls,  ploughs, 
And  I'll  dazzle  the  country  gabies  ; 
I'll  get  a  bull,  111  get  a  cart, 
I'll  get  the  Farmer's  Guide  by  heart, 
And  I'll  get  a  dozen  babies. 

Then  I'll  pet  my  dogs, 

111  fat  my  hogs, 

I'll  milk  my  cows, 

I'll  salt  my  sows, 

I'll  run  my  rigs, 

I'll  stick  my  pigs, 

I'll  roast  my  lambs, 

Til  mend  my  dam :, 


MINSTREI  339 

I'll  \\h»  t  my  knife, 
I'll  kill  my  sheep, 
I'll  kiss  my  wife, 
Ami  go  to  sleep, 
All  when  my  farm  is  taken. 

I'll  drink  just  double  on  Saturday  night, 
Sitting  up  with  my  spouse  till  candle  light, 
For  I  need  not  ris<-  early  on  Sunday  ; 
J  ben  HI  prat.-  to  my  love  of  clover  and  barns, 
While  the  dear  little  children9!  stockings  she  darns, 

That  nm>t  go  la  the  wash  on  Monday. 
On  Sunday  to  church,  beef  and  pudding  at  one, 
And  the  evening  to  spend, 
1*11  get  drunk  with  a  frfc  nd, 
bed,  and  on  Monday  be  up  with  the  sun. 
Bat  on  Monday  my  bed  forsaking, 

0  how  my  poor  nob  will  be  aching ! 
"With  my  eyes  stiff  and  red, 
Sunk  deep  in  my  head, 

1  mall  look  as  old  as  Methusalem  ; 
Whikt  the  curst  noises  round  me 
Will  so  confound  me, 

J  shall  w'nh  the  farm  yard  at  Jerusalem, 
For  thf  re  the  pigs  will  be  squeaking, 
i  he  waggon  wheels  be  creaking, 
Ducks  quacking, 
Cart-whips  cracking, 
I  u ikies  gobbling, 
'  bling, 


MINSTREL, 

Rooks  cawing, 
Plough  boys  jawing, 
Horses  neighing, 
Donkies  braying, 
Cocks  crowing, 
Oxen  lowing, 
Dogs  bark, 
Noah's  ark, 
All  when  my  farm  is  taken* 


Coleman,  Ji . 


HEAVING  OF  THE  LEAD. 
For  England,  when  with  fav'ring  gale 
Our  gallant  ship  up  Channelsteer'd, 
And  scudding  under  easy  sail, 

The  high  blue  western  land  appeared  ; 
To  heave  the  lead  the  seaman  sprung, 
And  to  the  watchful  piiot  sung, 

"  By  the  deep— nine  I'1 

And  bearing  up  to  gain  the  port, 
Some  well-known  object  kept  in~vi<  v.  | 

An  abbcy-tow'r,  an  harbour,  fort, 
Or  beacon  to  the  vessel  true; 

While  oft  the  lead  the  seaman  flung, 

And  to  the  pilot  cheerly  sung, 

"  By  the  mark— seven  !n 

And  as  the  much-lov'd  shore  drew  near, 
With  transport  wc  beheld  the  roof, 

Where  dwelt  a  friend  or  partner  dear, 
Of  faith  and  love  a  matchles   pi 


MINSTREL. 


The  lead  once  more  the  seaman  flung, 
And  to  the  watchful  pilot  sung,  ' 

"  Quarter- less— five! 

Now  to  her  birth  the  ship  draws  nigh  ; 

We  shorten  sail,  she  feels  the  tide, 
"  Stand  dear  the  cable J"  is  the  cry, 

The  anchor's  gone  ;  we  safely  ride. 
The  watch  is  set,  and  though  the  night 
We  hear  the  seaman,  with  delight, 

Proclaim,  "All's  well I" 


Fcarce* 


AMERICA,  COMMERCE,  AND  FREEDOM, 
How  blest  the  life  a  sailor  leads 

From  clime  to  clime  still  ranging; 
For  as  the  calm  the  storm  succeeds, 
The  scene  delights  by  changing. 
Though  tempests  howl  along  the  main, 

Some  object  will  remind  us, 
And  cheer  with  hope  to  meet  again 
The  friends  we  left  behind  us. 
When  under  full  sail  we  laugh  at  the  gale, 

And  the  landsmen  look  pale,  never  heed  them;' 
But  toss  offa  glass  to  some  favourite  lass, 
To  America,  Commerce,  and  Freedom. 

But  when  arriv'd  in  sight  of  land, 

Or  safe  in  port  rejoicing, 
Our  ship  we  moor,  our  sails  we  hand, 

WhiKt  oul  •  -mc;; 


J42  MINSTREL. 

With  cheerful  hearts  the  shore  we  reach,    • 

Our  friends  delighted  greet  us, 
And  tripping  lightly  o*cr  the  beach, 
The  pretty  lasses  meet  us. 
When  the  full  flowing  bowl  enlivens  the  soul, 

To  foot  it  we  merrily  lead  them ; 
And  each  bonny  las3  will  drink  off  her  glass, 
To  America,  Commerce,  and  Freedom. 

Our  prizes  sold,  the  chink  we  share, 

And  gladly  we  receive  it ; 
And  when  we  meet  a  brother  tar- 
That  wants,  we  freely  give  it ; 
No  f  reeborn  sailor  yet  had  store, 
But  cheerfully  would  lend  it : 
And  when  its  gone— to  sea  for  more, 
We  cam  it  but  to  spend  it. 
Then  drink  round,  my  boys,  'tis  the  first  of  our  joys 

To  relieve  the  distress'd,  clothe  and  feed  them, 
sTis  a  duty  we  share  with  the  brave  and  the  fair, 
In  this  land  of  Commerce  and  Freedom. 


KITTY  OF  COLERAINE. 
As  beautiful  Kitty  one  morning  was  tripping 

With  a  pitcher  of  milk  from  the  fair  of  Coleraine, 
When  she  saw  me  she  stumbled,  the  pitcher  it  tumbled* 

And  all  the  sweet  buttermilk  watered  the  plain. 
O !  what  shall  I  do  now,  rt\vas  looking  at  you  now, 

Sure,  sure  such  a  pitcher  I'll  ne'er  meet  again ; 
■Twas  the  pride  of  my  dairy,  O,  Barney  M'Cleary, 

You're  sent  as  a  plague  to  the  girls  of  Coleraine. 


IR1LL  ^ 

i  n  beside  her,  and  gently  did  chidt  . 
l  hat  such  a  misfortune  should  give  hi  r  such  pain  i 
I  kiss  then  I  pave  Iter,  and  before  I  did  leave  her, 
Ski  wwM  tor  such  pleamre  she'd  break  it  again. 
I'«;h  hay-making  season,  I  can't  tell  the  reason, 
Misfortune  will  never  come  single,  'tis  plain  , 
For  very  soon  after  poor  Kitty's  disaster. 
The  devil  a  pitcher  was  whole  in  Colerainc. 


CAPTAIN  MEGAN. 
O  the  Face  of  brave  Captain  Megan 
Wa .  as  broad  as  a  big  trying-pan  J 
Jmt  ovet  his  snout 
One  eye  was  snurT'd  out, 
But  the  other  burnt  bright  upon  Nan, sweet  Nan ! 
Oh!  it  bothei'd  the  heart  of  poor  Nan. 

I'm  no  beauty,  sighed  Captain  Megan, 
But  'tis  manners  alone  make  the  man, 

And  though  my  long  nose 

Should  hangover  my  toes, 
Would  you  like  me  the  worse  for  it,  Nan?— sweet  Nan! 
Would  you  like  me  the  worse  for  it,  Nan? 

Nan  leerM  upon  Captain  Megan  ; 
Her  skin  was  the  colour  of  tan  ; 

But  the  Captain, she  saw, 

Had  a  je  nc  scai  quoi  ; 
'So  the  Captain  heeonquerM  sweet  Nan— sw 
Oh,  long  life  to  bravp  Captain  Megan  ! 


344  MINSTREL. 

DENNIS  BULGRUDDERY. 
I  was  born  one  clay  when  my  mother  was  out 
In  her  reckoning— -211  accident  brought  it  about ; 
'Bout  family  quarrels  and  such  sort  of  fun, 
I  have  heard  of  forefathers,  but  I'd  only  one. 
Derry  down,  &c. 

Our  cabin  was  full,  though  not  very  big, 
Of  turnips,  potatoes,  a  dog,  cow,  and  pig ; 
Our  dog's  name  was  Dennis,  our  cow's  Paddy  Whack, 
'Till  christen'd  I  had  not  a  name  to  my  back. 
Deny  down,  &c. 

When  I  came  to  be  christen'd  my  poor  mother  saw 
On  my  face  our  dog  Dennis  had  just  laid  his  paw  ; 
What's  his  name,  says  the  clergy,  "down  Dennis,"  says 

she, 
So  Dennis  Bulgruddery,  he  cristen'd  me. 
Derry  down,  &c. 

I  grew  up  and  got  married,  but  was  left  in  the  lurch ; 
For  my  wife  died  before  I  could  get  her  to  church  ; 
With  the  first  wife  too  late,  With  the  second  too  soon  ; 
For  she  brought  me  a  son  in  the  first  honey  moon, 
Derry  down,  &c. 

This  business  being  over,  I'd  not  make  a  fuss ; 

It's  three  months  you  know  since  the  priest  married  us; 

Ay,  that's  right  reckoning,  says  she,  and  it's  three  auxe 

by  mine , 
And  three  by  my  own,  which  together  mak^  n'<i><- 
Dewy  do yn  < 


I 


MINSTREL,  4J 

She  died,  with  what  joy  I  a  handkerchief  bought, 

A  bran  new  one,  to  cry  at  her  grave  as  I  ought  J 
But  coming;  home  in  the  evening  w  ith  eyes  red  as  beef, 
I  pull'd  out  the  onion  and  supp'd  on  my  grief. 
Deny  down,  &e. 

Having  reap'd  all  the  comforts  a  single  life  yields, 
I  turn  d  reaper  and  cut  down  huge  number  of  fields  ; 
f  iom  reaping  of  wheat  I  tum'd  doctor,  and  then, 
By  the  powers,  I  cut  off  huge  numbers  of  men. 
Deny  down,  &c. 

I  cut  off  an  exciseman  whose  *  idow,  good  lack, 
Though  she  had  a  thousand  times  calfd  me  a  quack, 
I've  marrx  d,  and  I  believe  you  guess  now, 
It's  the  beautiful  lady  that  keeps  the  red  cow, 
Deny  down,  &c. 


SENSIBILITY. 

ih   purse-proud  slave,  with  pompous  soul 
May  golden  gilts  impart, 

A  nd  win  the  eye,  without  control, 
But  never  touch  the  heart. 

Tis  gold  attracts  the  insect  mind, 

Enslaves  the  iron  school ; 
Tis  gold  that  leads  the  passion 

And  d 


346  MINSTREL, 

But  wealth  could  never  yet  control 

A  heart  to  feeling  free, 
Nor  charm  the  pure  expanded  soul, 

Like  Sensibility ! 

A  simple  flowV  may  oft  disclose 

More  friendship,  warm  and  true, 
Than  all  the  wealth  the  ocean  knows, 

Or  mines  of  rich  Peru. 

//.  G.  Leivis. 


REST,  WEARY  TRAVELLER. 

Rest,  weary  traveller !  rest  thee  to  day, 
Where  the  cottager's  welcome  invites  thee  to  slay  , 
And  what  to  the  heart  is  more  grateful  and  dear 
Tlian  the  welcome  that  waits  on  the  cottager's  fare  ? 
Rest,  weary  traveller ! 

And  bright  is  the  smile  Hospitality  wears, 
As  the  stranger  at  evening  arrives  at  the  door ; 
And  sweet  is  the  accent  that  Cheerfulness  bears, 
And  bids  him  then  enter  and  wander  no  more ! 
Rest,  wear}'  traveller .' 

Arnold, 


HUNTERS  HORN. 
The  mom  unbars  the  gates  of  light, 
The  landscape  smiles  in  beauty  blight ; 
The  soaring  lark  now  swells  his  notes. 
And,  on  the  wings  of  silence,  floats : 
Hark!  hark!  hoik! 


MINSTREL 

1  be  huntsman  winds  his  horn, 
The  woods  around  willi echoes  iill, 
Each  huntsman  mounts  his  panting  sUed, 
And  o'er  the  trembling  earth  they  speed  ; 
The  welkin  resounds 
With  horns  and  with  hounds, 
The  welkin  resounds, 
With  horns  and  with  hounds  ; 

Tantarro !  tantarro  !  tantarro  ! 
The  welkin  resounds 
With  horns  and  with  hounds, 
Tantarro  !  tantarro  !  tantarro  ! 
Tantarro  !  tantarro  !  tantarro ' 

The  stag  pursues  his  eager  flight, 
The  hunters  keep  their  prey  in  sight; 
The  staunch  oldpack,with  wonderous  speed, 
Rush  forward  o'er  each  plain  and  mead ; 
Hark !  hark !  hark  ! 

The  huntsman's  horn  so  shrill ; 

The  stag's  at  bay,  his  fate's  forlorn, 
The  trickling  tear  steal  from  his  eyes, 
And  lost  in  grief  the  antler  dies  ! 
The  welkin  resounds,  &c. 


OH !  TWINE  A  WREATH  OF  EVERGREEN, 
Oh !  twine  a  wreath  of  evergreen 

And  with  it  deck  the  brow 
Of  him  who,  'mid  life's  varied  scene, 

Ne'er  breaks  his  plighted  vow : 


J  MINSTREL. 

Of  him  who, forced  by  henour's  call", 

In  climes  afar  to  roam, 
Whose  anxious  thoughts  will  cvertuni 

To  her  he  leaves  at  home. 

How  few,  'mid  pleasure's  dazzling  scenes^ 

Reflect  on  kindness  past ! 
How  few,  -who  wealth  and  power  obtain> 

Are  faithful  to  the  last. 

Too  oft  in  youth's  gay  sunny  days 

Men  play  the  tyrant's  part, 
They  first  ensnare,  and  then,  alas ! 

Deceive  the  guileless  heart. 


TELL,  PRETTY  COUSIN,  TELL  ME  TRUE. 
Ruben.  Tell,  pretty  cousin,  tell  me  true, 

Dotli  Ruben  read  with  scholars  art  ? 
Through  woman's  eye  can  he  review 
Secrets  that  dwell  within  her  heart  ? 
Tell,  cousin,  tell  I 

Mir  Ian.  Fie,  roguish  kinsman,  fie  on  thee  ! 
To  rudely  mock  a  maiden's  pain  ; 
If  blushes  on  this  cheek  you  see, 
'Tis  modesty  that  starts  the  stain. 

Both.  Fie,  kinsman,  fie ! 

Yet,  ah,  did  love's  commission'd  flame, 

Two  faithful  hearts  inspire, 
Not  virtue's  rigid  self  might  shame 

To  boast  so  pure  a  fire. 


As  luciil  g<  ins,  in  earth  deep  laid, 
Flash  light  on  caverns  round ; 

So  darker  passions  lose  their  shade 
In  hearts  where  love  is  found. 

TARS  OF  COLUMBIA. 

Ye  sons  of  Columbia,  the  trumpet  of  Fame, 

Thro    the  world  your  brave  actions  shall  loudly  pro- 

claim; 

*  Sec  Liberty's  Genius  triumphant  arise, 

Recording  your  deeds  as  she  mounts  to  the  skies  ; 

wjflstat  the  hostile  shore, 

where  tlnind'ring-  cannons  roar, 

No^riW^SS1!  J*"  lar'  cach  bravc  tar  shall  be, 
Ao  tiibute-but  glory-we'll  die  or  be  free. 

Ye  brave  sons  of  Freedom,  who  fell  in  the  cause, 
Supporting  your  rights,  independence  and  laws  ; 
"the  actions  of  heroes  in  hist'ry  are  prae'd, 
First  shall  Summers,  Decatur  and  Wadsworth  be 
plac'd. 

Whilst  &c. 

See  Preble  exalt efl,  a  monument  stand, 
Surrounded  by  heroes,  who  under  his  command, 
Zt!11)01S,tyrantS  thcir  vcn£*ancehave  hurl'd, 
And  tliy deeds  O  Columbia,  resound  thro' theworld. 
Whilst  &c. 

And  ZZS  "f  n'S  ^nius  our  C0,mt'T lIrf' "«> 
A  nil  should  Tj-ranny  dare  our  right!  to  invade, 

Whdst  &c, 


MINSTREL. 


REST,  WARRIOR  REST. 
He  comes  from  the  wars— from  the  red  field  of  fight  f 
He  comes  through  the  storm  and  the  darkness  of  night, 
For  rest  and  for  refuge  now  fain  to  implore, 
The  warrior  bends  low  at  the  cottager's  door. 
Pale— pale  is  his  cheek— there's  a  gash  on  his  brow, 
His  locks  o'er  his  shoulders  distractedly  flow, 
And  the  fire  of  his  heart  shoots  by  fits  from  his  eye 
like  a  languishing  lamp— that  just  flashes— to  die  ! 
Rest— warrior,  rest  I 

Sunk  in  silence  and  sleep  on  the  cottager's  bed, 
Oblivion  shall  visit  the  war-weary  head- 
Perchance  he  may  dream— but  the  vision  shall  tell 
Of  his  lady  love's  bower  and  her  latest  farewell ! 
Illusion  and  teve  chase  the  battle's  alarms- 
He  shall  dream  that  his  mistress  lies  lock'd  in  his  arms, 
He  shall  feel  on   his  lips  the  sweet  warmth  of  her 

kiss— 
Nay  !   warrior,  wake  not— such  slumber  is  bliss  I 
Rest— warrior,  rest  i 


DEI? MOT'S  TRIP. 
Twas  business  requir'd  I'd  from  Dublin  be  straying, 
I  bargained  the  captain  to  sail  pretty  quick, 
But  just  at  the  moment  the  anchor  was  weighing, 
'  '•    Jpal  inted  to  play  me  a  trick. 


MINSTREL,  351 

Paddy,  go  down  stairs  and  fetch  me  some 
beer  now  l 

thou)  you're  monstratiously  kind, 
i  Ian  you'll  sail  an  ay,  and  I'll  look  mighty  queer  now 
Win  n  I  come  up  and  see  myself  all  left  behind* 
With  my  fal  deral,  &C.  and  sing  palliluh,  whilliluh, 
w  hilliluh,  palliluh,  \\  hack  botheration,  and  langolee. 

A  storm  met  the  ship, and  did  rock  and  so  dodge  her, 
V.\  i  the  Captain  we'll  sink  or  be  all  cast  away  ; 
Thinks  I  ne'er  mind,  'cause  I'm  only  a  lodger, 
\nd  my  life  is  insured,  so  the  office  must  pay: 
Rut  a  teaf  w  ho  was  sea-sick  kiekt  up  such  a  riot, 
Tho'  1  lay  quite  speachless  like  t'other  poor  elf, 
I  could  not  help  bawling  you  spalpeen  be  quiet  i 
Do  \oti  think  that  there's  nohodydead  but  yourself! 
With  your  fal  de  ral,  &c. 

\Vf,l,  we  got  ?af.j  on  shore,  every  son  of  his  mother, 
I  ii  i.   I  found  an  old  friend,  Mr.  Paddy  Macgee, 

Och,  Dermot,  says  he,  is  it  you  or  your  brother  ? 

Sa]  >  l  I've  a  mighty  (fit  xt notion  it's  me  : 
"hi  n  l  told  him  the  bull  we  had  made  of  our  journey, 

Put  to  bull-making,  Irishman  ever  bear  blame  ; 

Says  he,  my  good  friend,  tho'  we've  bulls  in  Hibemia,' 
I  lit  y've  cuckolds  in  England,  and  that's  all  the  same. 
W  ith  my  fal  de  ral,  &c. 

Rut  from  all  sorts  of  cuckoldom  heaven  preserve'us  ! 
For  John  Bull  and  Paddy  Bull's  both  man  &  wile  \ 
And  even  brave  fellow  who's  kill'd  in  their  service, 


352  MINSTREL, 

Then  who  in  defence  of  a  pair  of  such  heai 
'Till  he'd  no  legs  to  stand  on,  would  eVr  rim  awaj  r 

Then  a  fig  for  our  foes,  and  the  damn'd  tory  parties ! 
Our  rights  and  the  Union  shall  cany  the  day. 
With  our  fal  de  ral,  &c. 


GLEE. 

Sailor-boy !  sailor-boy  !  sleep,  my  sweet  fellow, 

O'er  thy  rock'd  vessel,  when  thunderbolts  roll ; 
Wild  though  the  ocean  ravc,loud  though  winds  bellow, 

Calm  be  thy  bosom,  for  pure  is  thy  soul. 
Hushaby,  hushaby,  poor  sailor-boy ! 

Let  not  the  tempest  thy  slumber  destroy  ; 
Nor  terrors  of  conscience  thy  bosom  annoy  ; 

Then  hushaby,  hushaby,  poor  sailor-boy. 

Shepherd-boy,  shepherd-boy  !  while  your  sheep  f 

If  thou  art  pure  as  the  lambs  that  you  fold, 
Heed  not  the  snow-storm,  for  angels  descending, 

Shall  spread  their  white  pinions  to  guard  thee  from 
cold. 
Then  hushaby!  hushaby!  poor  shepherd-boy  !  &c* 


HERE'S  A  HEALTH. 
Here's  a  health  to  all  true  lasses, 
Pledge  it  merrily,  fill  your  glasses, 

Let  the  bumper  toast  go  round. 
May  they  live  a  life  of  pleasure 
Without  mixture,  without  measure, 

For  with  them  true  joys  are  found. 


MINSTREL.  353 

BOUND  'PRENTICE  TO  A  WATERMAN. 
Hound  'prentice  to  a  waterman,  I  leanvd  a  bit  to  row, 

Rut,  bless  your  beart,  I  always  was  so  gay, 
Tbat,  to  treat  a  little  watcr-nympb  that  took  my  beart 
in  tow, 
I  run  myself  in  debt  a  bit,  and  tlien  I  ran  away: 
Singing,  ri  tol,  i'ol  de  rol,  de  yeo  bo. 

Board  a  man  of  war  I  entered  next,  and  learn'd  to 
quaff  good  flip, 
And  far  from  home  we  scudded  on  so  gay  ; 
I  ran  my  rigs,  but  lik'd  so  well  my  captain,  crew,  and 
ship, 
That,  run  what  will,  why  damme,  if  I  ever  run 
away  : 

Singing,  ri  tol,  &c. 

On  board  the  Philadelphia  I  sail'd  the  world  around, 

Rut  somehow  I  a  prisoner  was  ta'en ; 
So,  when  the  Turkish  jailer  to  my  dungeon  show'd  a 
light, 
I  blinded  both  his  peepers,  and  ran  away  again. 
Singing,  ri  tol,  8cc. 

I've  ran  many  risks  in  life,  on  ocean,  and  on  shore, 

But  always,  like  a  tar,  got  the  day  ; 
And  fighting  in  Columbia's  cause,  will  run  as  many 

more  : 
But,  let  me  face  ten  thousand  foes,  will  never  run 
away. 

Singing,  ri  tol,  fol  de  rol,  yeo  ho, 
Y 


554  MINSTREL. 

SCOTTISH  WARRIOR  SONG. 

Oh  lassie  dear,  I  maun  awa' 

Tne  bugles  to  the  battle  ca' 
And  I  must  mingle  wi'  the  fray, 

Altho'  it  is  our  bridal  day. 
But  fear  not  lassie  I  dinna  fear, 

Wraiig  not  our  bridal  wi'  a  tear, 
Nor  damp  my  spirits  wi'  despair, 

"VV'e  soon  shall  meet  to  part  nae  mair. 

For  if  we  win  the  victory, 

I'll  share  my  laurels  here  with  thee  ; 
An'  if  thy  Donald  should  be  slain, 

He'll  meet  the  love  in  heaven  again  ! 
Then  fear  not  lassie ;  &c. 


Burns* 


ISLE  OF  ST.  HELENA. 


F.ona's  awa'  fra'  his  wan  and  his  fighting, 
And  he's  gone  to  the  place  that  he  ne'er  took  delight  in; 
He  may  sit  down  and  tell  of  the  scenes  he  has  seen  a', 
And  forlorn  he  may  mourn  on  the  isle  of  St.  Helena. 
No  more  at  St.  Cloud's  he'll  appear  in  mild  splendour, 
Nor  go  forth  with  his  crowds  like  th'  great  Alexander, 
He  may  sigh  to  the  moon  by  the  great  mount  Diana, 
With  his  eyes  o'er  the  waves  that  surround  St.  Helena. 

I.ousia  she  weeps  for  her  husband  departed, 

She  dreams  while  asleep,  and  awakes  broken  hearted;  J 

Not  a  friend  to  condole  nor  one  that  bewails  her, 

She  mourns  when  she  thinks  on  the  Isle  of  StHelena.1 


MINSTREL.  3*5 

All  you  of  groat  wealth,  beware  of  ambition, 
Some  decree  of  fate  may  soon  change  your  condition- 
Be  ye  stedfast  in  time,  for  what's  comin'  ye  ken  na\ 
Your  days  may  perhaps  end  on  the  Isle  of  St.  Helena. 


'SQUIRE  AND  HODGE, 
As  'cross  the  field,  the  other  morn, 

I  tripp'd  so  blithe  and  gay, 
The  'squire  with  his  dog  and  gun, 

By  chance  came  by  that  way. 
Whither  so  fast,  sweet  maid  ?  he  cry'd, 

And  caught  me  round  the  waist : 
Pray  stop  awhile— Dear  Sir,  said  I, 

I  can't  for  I'm  in  hast. 

You  must  not  go  as  yet,  cried  he, 

For  I  have  much  to  say  ; 
Come,  sit  you  down,  and  let  us  chat 

Upon  this  new  mown-hay.— 
I've  lov'd  you  long,  and  oft  have  wish'd 

Those  ruby  lips  to  taste  ; 
I'll  have  a  kiss— Well,  then  said  I, 

Be  quick,  for  I'm  in  hast. 

Just  as  I  spoke,  I  saw  young  Hodge 

Come  through  a  neighb'ring  gate : 
He  caught  my  hand,  and  cry'd  dear  girl, 

I  fear  I've  made  you  wait ; 
But  here's  the  ring,  come  let's  to  church. 

The  joys  of  love  to  taste— 
I  left  the  'squire,  and,  laughing,  cry'd, 

You  see,  Sir,  I'm  in  haste. 


35*5  MINSTREL. 

I'D  RATHER  BE  EXCUSED. 

Returning  from  the  fair  one  eve, 

Across  yon  verdant  plain, 
Young  Harry  said  he'd  see  me  home— 

A  tight  and  comely  swain  : 
He  begg'd  I  would  a  fairing  take, 

And  would  not  be  refus'd-, 
Then  ask'd  a  kiss— I  blush'd,  and  cry'd, 

I'd  rather  be  excus'd. 

You're  coy,  said  he,  my  pretty  maid  ; 

I  mean  no  harm,  I  swear  ! 
Long  time  I  have  in  secret  sigh'd 

For  you  my  charming  fair  : 
But,  if  my  tenderness  oifend, 

And  if  my  love's  refus'd, 
I'll  leave  you— What,  alone  ?  cried  I ; 

I'd  rather  be  excus'd. 

He  press'd  my  hand,  and  on  we  walk'd ; 

He  warmly  urg'd  his  suit : 
But  still,  to  all  he  said,  I  was 

Most  obstinately  mute. 
At  length,  got  home,  he  angry  cry'd, 

My  fondness  is  abus'd  ; 
Then  die  a  maid— indeed,  said  I, 

I'd  rather  be  excus'd 

FINIS. 


INDEX. 


A  Cobler  lived  in  York         - 

Alone  on  the  banks  of  the  dark  rolling  Danube 

Ah  I  when  shall  we  three  meet  like  them 

Ah  I  say  sweet  bird  how  long 

Around  the  fair  Isle  the  wild  birds  sing 

As  down  the  Burn  they  took  their  way 

A  Boat  danced  on  Clyde's  bonny  stream 

All  that's  bright  must  fade 

At  the  sign  of  the  horse  ... 

And  has  she  then  faiPd  in  her  truth     - 

At  my  sweet  home  in  our  village 

All  in  the  Downs  the  fleet  lay  moor-d 

At  mornings  dawn  the  hunters  rise 

A  glass  is  good  and  a  lass  is  good 

At  dawn  of  day  when  other  folks 

And  ye  shall  walk  in  silk  attire 

Assist  me  ye  lads  who  have  hearts 

A  flaxen  headed  Cowboy 
down  a  green  valley  their  liv"d 
sk  me  who  is  singing  here 
11  hail  to  the  morning         - 
id  me  ye  piting  powers  • 

h  !  soldiers  of  Britain  your  merciless  doings 
s  down  on  Banna's  banks  I  stray'd 
V  liighland  lad  my  love  was  born 
'mention  pray  give  while  of  hobbies  I  sing 


Page. 

-       l 


5' 

57 


100 

104 
133 
137 
188 

152 

165 
213 


ir  INDEX. 

Page 

Ah  !  pooh  botheration  -----  323 

Ah!  sweet  were  the  moments       -  329 

And  they  may  say  thy  long  dark  hair  •       -  334 

As  beautiful  Kitty 342 

As  'cross  the  fields  the  other  mom        -  355 

Bid  me  discourse  I  will  enchant  -       -       -      16 

Believe  me  if  all  those  endearing  young  charms       18 

Back  side  Albany  stand  lake  Champlain  -  28 

Be  mine  dear  maid  this  faithful  heart         -       -  32 
Bright  Chantileer  proclaims  the  dawn  5$ 

Ben  Backstay  was  our  boatswain         -       -       -      59 

Bright  Phoebus  has  mounted  the  chariot  pf  day  -  92 

Ey  the  side  of  yon  streamlet,  &c.  -        -        -  129 

Bonnie  lassie  will  ye'  gang  ?  172 

Behave  yoursel'  before  fo|k  r  293 

Blow  high  blow  low  ?       -        r  301 

Barney  Bodkin  broke  his  nose  -       -       -  306 

Behold  in  his  soft  expressive  face  -  309 

Bound  'prentice  to  a  waterman  -       -       -  353  j 

Come  each  gallant  lad  -       r       <?       r       -      121 

Come  take  the  harp       -       -       -       -       -       r      171 

Come  hither  thou  beautiful  rover        •?       -. 
Come  rest  in  this  bosom         -       -        ■?       - 
Come  listen  to  my  story        -        -       -       - 

Come,  come,  bonny  lassie,  cried  Sandy  away 

Come  let  us  prepare       ------  noj 

Cease,  O !  cease  to  tempt     -       -       -       -       -  14 

Contented  I  am,  and  contented  I'll  be 

Columbia  sons  at  sea  - 

Come  muster  my  lads  -       -        -       - 

Contented  we'  little  and  canty  wi'  mair 


INDEX.  T 

Dear  harp  of  my  country  in  darkness  I  found  thee  13 

Deserted  by  the  waning  moon  24 

Dame  Durd<n  k<  pt  five  servant  girls          -        -  25 

Da\s  of  absence  sad  and  dieary            ...  41 

Deep  in  my  breast  the  rosy  tyrant  dwells            -  65 

Deep  in  a  vale  a  cottage  stood       -       -  70 

Down  in  the  valley  my  father  dwells  73 

Dear  Kathleen  you  no  doubt        -       -        -       -  85 

Dear  Nancy  I've  sail'd  the  world  all  'round         -  83 

Dear  Erin,  how  sweetly  thy  green  bosom  rises    -  119 

Dear  Tom  this  brown  jug  which,  &.c.          -        -  KM 

Down  in  yon  village 177 

Dear  is  my  little  native  vale                                   -  ' 

Drink  to  me  only  with  thine*  yes         ...  205 

Dear  maid  by  every  hope  of  bliss          -        -        -  210 

Did  you  ne'er  here  a  tule        -        -        -        -        -  23  4 

E're  around  the  huge  oak,  Sec.     -       -        -        -  138 

E're  sorrow  taught  my  tears  to  flow     -        -        -  2  S3 

Follow  follow  through  the  s<  a  IS 

Flow  g.ntly  sweet  Afton 3' 

Far  far  o'er  hill  and  dale 43 

Flow  on  thou  shining  river  8'J 

Fly  not  yet, 'tis  just  the  hour        ....  107 

Fly  from  the  world,  oh  !  Etssy  to  me           -        -  103 

From  the  white  blossoBi'd  sloe 

Forlorn  among  the  highland  hills 

Forbid  it  land  heaven           -  204 

From  mom  till  night 

Faint  and  wearily  the  way-worn  traveller           -  217 

Fair  Sally  once  the  village  pride          ...  120 

Fashion's  all  fiddle  de-dee %3Q 


ri  INDEX. 

Page 

Farewel  to  Lochaber      ------  328 

For  England  when  with  fav'ring  gale         -       -  340 

Go  my  love  nor  believe  that  your  Claribela       -  10 

Gin  a  body  meet  a  body       -----  120 

Glowing  with  love  on  fire  for  fame       -       -       -129 

Go  where  glory  waits  thee            -       .       -       -  261 

Green  grow  the  rashes,  O       -        -  267 

Give  Isaac  the  nymph          -----  268 

Gaily  sounds  the  Castanet      -----  296 

Glorious  Apollo             ------  324 

Good  night  and  joy  be  w?  ye  a'           -       -       -  327 

Ke  was  fam'd  for  deeds  of  arms            -       -       -  5 

Hail  liberty  supreme  delight         -       -       -        -  5 

Here  aw  a  there  awa  wandering  Willie  8 

Here  markthe  poor  desolate  maid  37 

His  couch  was  his  shroud      -----  48 
Here  a  sheer  hulk  lies  poor  Tom  Bowling 

How  sweet  at  close  of  silent  eve           -        -        -  67 
Here  awa,  there  awa,  here  awa,  Willie 
How  happy  is  the  peasant's  lot            - 

Hail  to  the  chief  now  he's  wet  through,  &c.       -  125 

T  ere  we  met  too  soon  to  part               -       -       -  149 

Hail  masoniy  thou  craft  divine           -       -       -  150 

Hew  liappy  the  soldier          -----  171 

How  sweet  are  the  flowers 181 

Had  I  a  heart  for  falsehood  framed      -        -        -  200 

Honest  William,  an  easy  and  goodnatur'd  -        -  210 

Here's  to  the  maiden  of  bashful  fifteen       -       -  216 

Here  are  catches  songs  and  glees         ...  254 

Hey  the  dusty  miller 282  j 

Hark  the  muffled  drum 307  I 


INDEX. 


How  dear  to  this  heart 

Hark  the  vesper  hymn 

Here  then  we  part  for  ever 

Here  full  of  sears  lies  poor  Hal  Brazen 

How  blest  the  life  a  sailor  leads 

He  comes  from  the  w  ars 

Here's  a  health  to  all  true  lasses 

In  my  cottage  near  a  wood 
I  come  from  a  land  far  awa' 
I  will  na'  marry  any  mon     - 
I  have  kissed  and  I've  prattled 
1  have  lov'd  thee  dearly  lov'd  thee 
I  give  thee  all  I  can  no  more 
In  a  post  office  bred 
If  I  had  a  beau  for  a  soldier  who'd  go 
1  knew  by  the  smoke 
Is  there  a  heart  that  never  lov'd 
In  Derrj -down-dale  when  I  wanted  a  n 
In  storms  when  clouds  obscure  the  sky 
In  Ireland  so  friskey 
I've  liv'd  a  life  of  some  few  years 
In  airy  dreams  soft  fancy  flies 
In  the  conjugal  chain  firmly  tied 
I've  wander'd  through  that  Indian  land 
In  the  world's  crooked  path 
In  Dundee  there  liv'd  a  carl 
I've  been  roaming,  I've  been  roamiog 
,  I'm  a  wild  Irish  boy        - 
In  a  chariot  of  light        - 
If  a  body  meet  a  body 
I'd  mourn  the  hopes  that  leave  me 
If  not  with  thee  I'm  blest 


vni 


INDEX. 


I'll  to  court  among  all  the  nobility 

In  Chester  town  a  man  there  dwelt 

I  sing  the  maid  of  Lodi 

I'm  teaz'd  to  death  from  morn  till  night 

I  have  parks  I  have  grounds 

lam  a  man  of  learning         - 

I  saw  thy  form  in  youthful  pride 

I  saw  from  the  beach      -       -       -       - 

Is  there  for  honest  poverty    - 

I  was  bom  one  day  when  my  mother  was  out 

Judy  leads  me  such  a  life       - 

Lcvt's  blind  they  say,  Oh !  never  nay 

Love,  my  Mary  dwells  with  thee 

Let  him  who  sighs  in  sadness  hear 

Lcud  roar'd  the  dreadful  thunder 

Let  the  farmer  praise  his  grounds 

Life's  a  bumper  fill'd  by  fate       - 

Let  gay  ones  and  great         .... 

Loud  and  chill  was  the  blast         - 

Life  let  us  cherish  - 

Leeze  me  on  my  soldier  love        - 

Let  Turks  triumph  let  tyrants  reign 

Love  was  once  a  little  boy     - 

Let  fame  sound  the  trumpet         - 

Let  Erin  remember       -       -       -       - 


Page 

-  236 

-  241 

-  252 
.  266 

-  281 

-  289 
.  292 

-  300 

-  317 

-  344 

-  169 

-  14 
.  35 
•  37 

94 

■  142 

-  150 

-  151 

-  161 

■  132 
.  193 
.  203 

-  225 

■  227 

-  297 


'Mid  pleasure  and  palaces  though  we  may  roam 
My  highland  home  where  tempests  blow     - 
My  mam  is  no  more,  and  my  dad's  in  his  grave 
My  friend  is  the  man  - 

Malroony's  my  name  I'm  a  comical  boy 
Mary  I  believed  thee  true  - 


S3 
99 
116 

143 
205 


INDEX. 

Mrs  Wattle  was  a  widow 

My  thoughts  delight  to  wander 

My  name  is  honest  Harry  O  ! 


blight 


Near  Clyde's  gay  stream 

Now  is  it  not  a  pity 

Now  in  her  green  mantle 

No  more  I'll  court  the  town  bred  fair 

Oh !  remember  the  time  in  La  Mancha's  shades . 

O  whack  Cupid's  a  mannikin 

Our  cot  was  shelter'd  by  a  wood 

Oh  I  tis  love,  'tis  love,  'tis  love 

Oh  I  say  can  you  see  by  the  dawns  early  light 

Oh  swiftly  glides  the  bonny  boat 

O  Nanny  wilt  thou  gang  with  me 

Oh  the  days  are  gone  when  beauty 

O  Logan,  sweetly  didst  thou  glide 

Our  bugles  sang  truce 

O  !  who  has  seen  the  miller's  wife 

O,  we're  a'  noddin 

O'er  the  trident  of  neptune,  &c. 

O,  whistle,  and  I  will  come  to  you  my 

O  come  on  some  cold  rainy  day 

Oft  in  the  stilly  night 

O  weep  for  the  hour 

O  why  should  the  girl  of  my  heart 

O  Logie  of  Buchan 

Odds  blood  what  a  time  for  a  seaman 

Oh  what  a  row,  what  a  rumpus 

3h  !  thou  wert  born  to  please  me 

)h  softly  sleep  my  baby  boy 

),  green  were  the  groves 

)'er  barren  hills  andflowry  dales 


Page 
.    238 

-  252 

-  2  4 


lad 


232 
271 


INDEX. 


O  hare  you  not  heard  of  Kate  Kearney 
Our  country's  like  a  printing  house     . 
Oh  !  breathe  not  his  name 
Of  a'  the  airs  the  winds  can  blaw 

Oh  !  lady  fair 

O  when  my  farm  is  taken      .        .        . 
O,  the  face  of  brave  captain  Megan 
Oh  I  twine  a  wreath  for  me 


Past  masters  song         .... 
Pretty  lady  pretty  gentleman 

Roy's  wife  of  Aldivalloch 

Rest  wean-  traveller 

Returning  from  the  fair  one  eve  . 

Swift  from  the  covet  the  merry  pack  fled 

Scot's  wha  ha'  with  Wallace  bled 

Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot 

Sweetest  love  I'll  ne'er  forget  thee 

Sae  flaxen  were  her  ringlets 

Sleep  on,  sleep  on,  my  Kathleen  dear 

Sure  won't  you  hear  what  roaring  cheer 

Since  then  I'm  doom'd 

Shall  I  those  beauties  prize 

Sure  mortal  man  was  born  to  sorrow 

Sweet  Anna  fra'  the  sea  beach  came  . 

Silent  O  Moyle,  be  the  roar  of  thy  waters 

See,  brothers  see, how  the  night  comes  on 

Say  have  you  seen  my  Arabel 

Stay  sweet  enchanter  of  the  grove 

St.  Patrick  was  a  gentleman 

Smile  again  ray  bonny  lassie 

Sailor  boy,  sailor  boy 


INDEX.  x» 

Page 

The  minstrel  boy  to  the  war  is  gone 
Though  the  musts  ne'er  smile  by  the  light,  &c.  7 

Tell  me  babbling  echo  why  ....        8 

The  wealthy  fool  with  gold  in  store  ...  11 
The  sea  was  calm  the  sky  serene  ...       15 

The  moon  was  beaming  silver  bright  .        .      21 

Twas  a  keen  frosty  morn  ...      27 

Twas  one  morn  when  the  wind  ...      29 

The  scene  was  more  beautiful      .  .        .34 

There  came  to  the  beach 53 

Through  icy  rallies 53 

Thimble's  scolding  wife  lay  dead  ...  64 
The  young  May  moon  is  beaming  love  .  .  65 
The  dusky  night  rides  down  the  sky  .        .      68 

To  liberty^  enra.ptnr*d  sight  .  .  .  .91 
Twas  you  sir,  twas  you  sir  ....     122 

Tom  and  Jerry's  *prn  s  .....     F28 

The  meadows  'ook  cheerful  the  birds  asreetly  sin^  137 
This  world  is  .11  a  fleeting  show  .        .        .140 

To  thy  green  fields  sweet  Erin  .        .        .     1-12 

The  sun  had  descended  beneath  the  green  wave  145 
The  soldier  tired  of  war's  alarms  .        .        .     149 

Twas  noon  and  the  reapers  reposed  on,  8cc.  .  157 
True  hearted  was  he  the  sad  swain  of  the  Yarrow  15k» 

160 
166 
168 
174 
175 
179 
183 
184 
185 


Thou  favourite  of  heaven  the  hope  of  the  brave 

To  a  shady  retreat  fair  Eiiza 

The  sailor  boy  from  his  home  is  gone 

The  glasses  sparkle  on  the  board 

'Twas  summer  and  softly  the  breezes  . 

Tom  Starboard  was  a  lover  tine 

There  is  not  in  this  wide  world 

The  harp  that  once  through  Tara's  halls     . 

The  sun  has  gone  down        .... 


INDEX. 


The  sun  sets  at  night 

Thy  cheek  is  o'  the  roses  hue 

The  flowers  of  the  forest 

The  pride  of  the  valley  is  lovely 

The  silver  moon's  enamoured  beam 

That  love's  a  tyrant      .... 

T was  past  meridian      .... 

Tho'  the  last  glimpse  of  Erin 

The  Catrine  woods  were  yellow  seen 

The  day  returns  my  bosom  burns 

The  day  was  spent  the  moon 

The  lao  that  I  love  no  lassie  shall  know 

Thine  am  I,  my  faithful  fair 

'Twas  within  a  mile  of  Edinburgh,  &c. 

The  rose  of  the  valley  in  spring  time,  ike. 

Thy  cheek  my  sweet  fair 

The  savage  loves  his  native  shore 

Those  evening  bells        .... 

To  a  woodmans  hut       .... 

The  morn  was  blinking  . 

There's  braw  braw  lads 

Taste  O  !  taste  this  spicy  wine 

There  was  a  lady  liv'd  at  Leith 

*Twas  at  the  town  of  nate  Clogheen    . 

Then  farewell  my  trim  built  werry 

The  broom  bloom'd  sae  fresh  andsae  fair 

The  smiling  morn  the  breathing  spring 

•Tis  the  last  rose  of  summer 

The  streamers  were  flying 

'Twas  autum  and  round  me 

The  kiss  that  he  gave 

The  lasses  fain  wad  haefrom  me 

The  sun  was  set,  the  sea  was  calm 


INDEX. 


That  I  have  lov'd  thee 

Then  fare  thee  well,  my  own  dear  love 

The  fortune  I  crave 

The  purse  proud  slave 

The  morn  unbars. the  gates  of  light 

Tell  pretty  cousin  tell  me  true 

'Twas  business  reuqired  from  Dublin 

Under  the  greenwood  tree 

When  a  boy  Harry  Bluff  left  his  friends,  &c 

"Whether  sailor  or  not  for  a  moment  avast 

When  the  rose  bud  of  Summer      . 

Wilt  thou  say  farewell  love 

What  airy  sounds  hovers  sweetly  round 

When  I  was  a  boy  in  my  fathers 

While  gazing  on  the  moon's  light 

What  beauties  does  Flora 

When  Bibo  went  down 

When  first  in  Lunnun  I  arriv'd 

When  I  was  at  home  with  my  father,  &c. 

While  the  lads  of  the  village 

When  I  gazed  on  a  beautiful  face 

When  1  left  thy  shores  O  Naxos 

When  the  rosy  morn  appearing 

When  nature  first  salutes  the  Spring 

What  tho'  'tis  true  I've  talk'd  of  love 

Why  does  azure  deck  the  sky 

When  first  I  saw  my  Mary's  face 

When  Steerwell  heard  me  first  impart 

When  the  blackletter'd  list 

When  William  Tell  was  doom'd  to  die 

With  martial  step  the  soldiers  come   • 


INDEX. 


With  my  pipe  in  one  hand 

When  Freedom  midst  the  battle's  storm 

Willie  Wastle  dwelt  on  Tweed 

With  helmet  on  his  brow      . 

Within  yon  cottage  dwells  a  maid 

Where  shall  the  lover  rest 

We'll  dance  around  we  lour 

Wake,  dearest,  wake  !  and  again  united 

While  I  hang  on  your  bosom,  distracted,  cce 

While  up  the  shrouds  the  sailor  goes 

When  freshly  blows  the  nothern  gale 

Who  wadna  be  in  love 

When  I  first  saw  the  youth 

When  nature  first  began  Jean 

When  I  was  a  little  boy 

When  I  was  an  infant 

What's  this  dull  town  to  me 

While  flushing  o'er  thy  olive  cheek 

When  I  was  a  yonker 


Ye  banks  and  braes  of  bonnie  Down    . 

Yes  when  thou  hearest  the  gentle  breeze 

Ye  sons  of , Columbia  v  ho  bravely  have  fought 

Ye  ling'ring  winds  that  feebly  blow 

You've  surely  heard  of  famous  Niel 

Your  laughter  I'll  try  to  provoke 

Ye  sportsmen  draw  near 

Young  Henry  was  as  brave  a  youth        • 

Ye  gallants  bright  .... 

Ye  sons  of  Columbia       .... 


J 


X 


■ 


»     -.«iife  "W^ 


